


The 9th Guarantee

by spiralingintocontrol



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 33,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralingintocontrol/pseuds/spiralingintocontrol
Summary: Odo's face was shining. “Nerys, I thought I was never going to see anyone of my kind again, and to have found this child, and be able to care for it, show it the world… It’s such an incredible feeling, seeing it grow, seeing it start to shift …” His face clouded.“I thought you said it was too young to shift yet.”Odo picked up his drink and took a long swig from the tall, green glass. He explained that Dr. Mora had wanted to do treatments to it that he remembered as… some of the most painful of his life. That he’d stopped it at first, but that Captain Sisko had overruled him, saying that Starfleet’s intelligence concerns overrode his objections. That today, he and Dr. Mora had …“We did it,” he muttered. “We delivered fifty millivolts to its body. And it shifted.” He heaved a sigh and took a drink from his kanar again. “It worked. Dr. Mora was right.”Kira was staring at him. “You’re saying you tortured a baby because Starfleet told you to?”Odo blinked.“I what?”"That's an illegal order, straight out."
Relationships: Kira Nerys/Odo, Mora Pol & Odo, Odo & Benjamin Sisko, Odo & Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A rewrite of the episode The Begotten. I hated how the Federation and Sisko were portrayed in that episode, and I especially hated that Odo's abusive dad won. So here's a version where civilization is more adequate, parenthood is less shitty, and things end pretty well.
> 
> Bonus: you get my headcanons about asexual Odo (sort of) and a better version of Kira/Odo, because I always felt like that relationship was poorly justified in canon. You'll see what I mean. It's not subtle.
> 
> This work is complete (modulo a bit of editing). I'll be posting it staggered.

Odo approached Quark's bar sometime after dinner. He didn't look nervous. He projected calm confidence, as he always did; as the security chief of the station, he felt a near-absolute sense of ownership and safety at most times. His strides were smooth, his arms were folded, and his eyes gazed softly into the distance.

But that wasn't really how he felt. Someone who knew him well could intuit this. Quark, for example; he knew Odo's routine, and it wasn't typical for the ex-shapeshifter to venture out of his quarters at this hour. Being a savvy businessman, however, Quark knew better than to antagonize police. Especially Odo, who was positively gleeful at finding violations of station regulations when he was in a bad mood.

It wasn't typical for Odo to be social at this hour. But not much had been typical for him, since he was changed into a solid.

He was off balance; all his routines felt a little bit off. He couldn't bear to be alone in his quarters for as long as he used to. Something drew him to the bar in the evening, like some kind of primal hunger.

Well. Hunger was new to him, too. Call it a magnetism, or a craving.

He sidled into the bar looking suspicious, as he always did. The stools were mostly full, but it wasn't too loud. The dabo games had closed down for the evening, as they usually did on weeknights. Morn was sitting in his usual stool.

Kira and Jadzia were seated further down the bar, chatting. Odo continued his sidle a bit more awkwardly, letting his arms fall to his sides as he shuffled over and sat down next to them.

"Odo! Good to see you." Kira's brilliant smile caught him off guard, as it usually did lately. He inclined his head in what he hoped was a polite fashion.

"We were just talking about—"

"Nothing you want to hear about—" Kira interrupted.

"Klingon physiology," Dax continued with a grin. "I've been doing some research on it -- for purely scientific purposes, you understand."

Kira rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully at Odo. "Well, I tried."

A stool scraped against the floor. They all looked up to see Bashir joining them, with a mug of ale in his hand. "Klingon physiology, you say? It's actually very interesting. Did you know that they have two livers? It's why blood wine is so strong."

"And that's why they can get drunker than anyone else, is that what you mean?" Jadzia joked. "They certainly have better endurance." Her mouth crooked up in a smug half-smile.

Kira laughed out loud. "I can tell by the bruises you come back with," she added, elbowing Jadzia.

Odo felt his face heating up. He didn't say anything, afraid that if he tried, his voice would come out strangely.

Julian raised his hands. "Here, now. I don't want to hear anything that I'm not supposed to."

* * *

Odo remembered another time, another conversation like this one, before he had changed.

"So how are things going with Lita?" Dax inquired as Julian sat down. Lita wasn't in the bar that evening, having headed home from work some hours ago.

Nerys had asked Odo to come chat with them that evening, so he came. The invitation was well timed. It had been a month or two since his last social appearance, and he liked to make them now and again.

It wasn’t all of the senior staff this time — Miles had gone home early to Keiko this evening. Just Nerys, Jadzia, Julian, and Odo. He felt a bit awkward being one of the small number of people crowded around the bar.

“Very well, thanks,” Julian said briefly. “Quark — dark stout, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“What, that’s all we get?” she said, smiling. “No more juicy gossip?”

The doctor raised one eyebrow an accepted his drink from the Ferengi bartender. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

Nerys and Jadzia both giggled as if Bashir had said something hilarious. Odo didn’t quite understand what was funny, so he stayed silent.

“Seems like a lot of the senior staff is pairing off these days,” Jadzia observed with a smile on her face. “You and Lita, Nerys and Shakar… we just have a few strays to take care of.” She glanced meaningfully at Odo.

Nerys grimaced in her direction. “That’s right. Like you.”

She held up her hands defensively. “I did say a few!”

“So on a more civilized subject,” Bashir said with dignity, “did you hear that one of the Vedeks was replaced today?”

It took some time for everyone else to get drunk enough that the conversation wound its way back to Dax’s original topic. Everyone except Odo, of course. He didn’t get drunk (or even drink any sort of beverage, alcoholic or not). He just got to sit there feeling weird as the rest of the officers lost their motor function and inhibitions.

He appreciated that they invited him to these things. It showed trust. Some part of him wished he could do the same — though he didn’t find the alcohol route particularly appealing.

At any rate, Bashir eventually got drunk enough that he started talking about Lita, even without being asked.

“She—she— _she is_ so… Just…” The doctor leaned one arm against the bar. “So beauutiful.” His voice squeaked. “I d’nno why… why she…” He gave up and let out a huge sigh. “Beauuuutiful,” he said again, drawing the word out.

Nerys was giggling helplessly through this performance, pressing her hand flat against the bar to stay stable, eyes crinkled with joy.

Quark had discreetly made himself scarce some time ago, good bartender that he was, but Odo thought he caught a glimpse of movement on the upper floor of the bar. Snooping, as usual.

(Dax, on the other hand, could hold her alcohol better than the others, but also had fewer inhibitions to begin with. Her arms were folded, and she was smiling her usual enigmatic smile.)

“Odo,” said Julian. “Odo, Odo, Odooooo. _You_ know wh’m… what I’m … what I mean. Don’tchoo — isn’shee — beautiful? These, these—” he jerked his head at Nerys and Jadzia, and grew suddenly more articulate. “These _women!_ They don’t know what it is to.. to be-hold a beautiful woman, and _be_ a man, and—” He clenched a fist, then set it on the table, wobbling.

“Julian!” Nerys interjected. “He doesn’t have to answer that. Odo, you don’t have to answer that.”

Odo tried to smile, and felt sure it didn’t look right. “Well. I may be a man, but I’m not a human. Or any kind of… biological organism, really.”

“S’not true!” the doctor objected. “Biol’gy… You changelings, you pro-pa-gate,” he enunciated carefully. “You _are_ biolooogiiical. Just. Different biol’gy. Different. Still a living thing.”

“He’s right,” agreed Dax, science officer for a major Federation outpost. “Biology is life science. You’re alive.”

Odo made a noncommittal noise.

“You _are!_ ” Bashir picked up his glass and banged it on the table. Odo thought he saw Quark flinching on the upper floor. “Bi-o-lo-gi-cal. Alive. Just like us.”

The changeling shifted in his stool, re-crossing his legs. “All right then, I’m biological. But I am lacking in a few respects—” Dax snorted, garnering a dirty look from Nerys—”for example, lungs, a stomach…”

“... en-do-crine sys-tem…” Julian muttered. “But thass not what I asked. _Beauty._ Beau-ti-ful. S’different.”

“You asked him about being a man, though,” Dax observed. “Feeling the way a man feels when he sees a beautiful woman.”

“Yeah, you did!” said Nerys. “And… and you don’t have to tell him anything,” she added, to Odo. Her face was red, presumably due to the alcohol.

“Well, _I_ know how a man feels when he looks at a beautiful woman,” said Dax. “Some men, anyway. Kurzon felt it a lot more strongly than Torias or Joran. It’s kind of a tangled-up feeling… Lots of hormones. Very related to the endocrine system,” she finished, the corners of her mouth turned up in a half-smile.

Odo didn’t have an endocrine system, but he felt a mild sense of emptiness inside him at her words.

But his voice was perfectly even. “Well, that’s settled, then. And I think it’s time that I get to my bucket, and you all get to sleep.”

With only mild protests, he escorted them out of the bar.

“Odo,” said Nerys, as the other two scattered. “Walk with me?”

He inclined his head and walked alongside her towards her quarters.

“I’m sorry about … all that,” she said.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I don’t have hormones. I don’t feel the way that humanoids do… in a lot of ways, really.”

“But you care,” Nerys answered. “You have relationships with other people, you feel affection, you feel love. You know what that is. And you know what beauty is, I’ve seen some of the objects you shift into! You do!”

“I do.”

“So?”

His lips flattened. “So?”

“So you don’t have to feel bad when Dax is talking about endocrine systems or whatever. It doesn’t make you _less_ that you don’t feel those things, Odo!” She was almost yelling.

He shrugged. “No.”

“Then…” she looked over and up at him, suddenly uncertain. “Then why are you so sad about it? Don’t tell me you’re not, I can see it.”

He paused for a moment, still walking at an even pace, then tried to explain.

“I’m a shapeshifter. What my people taught me when I visited them, what that means, is that we try to experience what it is to _be_ a thing, not only an imitation of that thing. To be a hawk, soaring in flight… to be a rock, full of stillness… and lots of other things that I don’t think would even make sense to you. And…” He paused again. He might have taken a deep breath, if breathing were something he did.

“And it’s not so easy, to be a humanoid.

“I think maybe if I were a better shapeshifter, I _would_ be able to feel those things, if I chose to. But I’m not. And I don’t know how to become one. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my people again.

“It’s a limitation. I don’t enjoy being limited.”

Nerys was silent for a moment. He glanced over at her, as they walked; her tightly cropped, bright red hair was a bit off-kilter after the evening they’d had; her ridged nose wrinkled in thought. Her strides were still long and even after a long night of drinking, a testament to her physical power and robustness.

“So that’s it, then?” she asked, turning towards him and stopping her stride for a moment. “You’re sad because you’re never going to be able to try out feeling all the squishy organic feelings that we solids have to contend with on a daily basis? Because you won’t ever see your people again, and learn to refine your _art_?” There was something he didn’t recognize in her voice. Sadness? Anger? More likely she was just tired.

“I suppose that’s one way you could put it,” he replied.

“That’s all? You don’t ever think about … what you’re missing?”

He didn’t know what she meant, so he didn’t reply. Her deep brown eyes turned on him, searching his face. For what? Odo couldn’t tell, but he was transfixed, trying to determine what she would do next.

Her right hand curled up at her side, then slowly, as if pulled by a string across her body, crossed it, moving towards him, her body leaning forward—

The dots connected. He froze. Then took a step back.

“You’re drunk, Major,” he said with certainty. “Let’s get you to your quarters.”

Then he wished he’d never spoken, because of the look of utter humiliation that flashed across her face.

“That’s all right, Odo,” she said. “You’re right. I’m drunk, but I’m not that drunk. I can get back the rest of the way myself. See you tomorrow in the captain’s office.” Kira turned and walked away without a backward glance.

* * *

Perhaps surprisingly, they did talk about it, later.

Nerys had made many mistakes in her life, but cowardice was not one of them. She barreled up to Odo’s office the next evening.

When he saw her through the glass sliding door, Odo braced himself and simply said “Come in.”

She entered. She was still wearing her uniform—a long red jumpsuit. Maybe she was only there for business? But no. “I’m sorry about last night,” she said, as soon as the door hissed shut. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s quite all right,” he said. “You weren’t yourself.”

She shook her head and pulled up a chair, sitting in it at a safe distance from his desk. “I was drunk, but I was myself.”

He tried to decipher that remark, but couldn’t, and cocked his head to the side questioningly.

She blew her breath out. “What I mean to say is… Odo, you’re my best friend.”

His eyes widened. “I’m touched, Nerys,” he said as genuinely as he could. “You … you are my best friend.”

“I don’t want to make things awkward between us,” she said.

There was a pause.

“Okay,” he said.

She seemed to be struggling with something. “Odo… Would you ever… If you had the chance, is there anything you would change about our relationship?”

He thought about it for a moment. “You know… I can hardly imagine anything that would make it better.”

This made her smile, but only briefly. “Really? Not anything?”

He gave her the same kind of smile back: a sad one.

Odo stood up, walked around his desk, and scooted a second stool over next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders and looked into her eyes. They were a deep, liquid brown, clear, larger than those of most Bajorans. Beautiful. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel when looking at them, what a Bajoran man or a human man would feel, but he knew that they were beautiful.

“Nerys,” he said. “I can’t give you the things that a Bajoran man would. I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone else…” He had to pull hard to get the next words out. “But I want you to be happy.”

Her eyes shimmered with wetness, like a layer of glass. Beautiful. “I want you to be happy, too, Odo.” She blinked rapidly. “I wish I could tell you that those things don’t matter to me.”

“But they do,” he said gently. “I know. It’s all right.”

“We could— I— I don’t mean to pressure you, but you know… It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know. Lots of species have made it work. We could try— something…” She trailed off, seeing his face. It was tight, almost afraid.

“I can’t,” he said. “Nerys, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

He lifted his arm and stood up.

“I told you before,” he said, trying to make his tone light. “I can’t imagine anything that would make our friendship better.”

She swallowed. Nodded. Sat for a moment, composing herself. The security chief went back to his desk and glanced at his reports for a moment while she did so.

When she stood up to leave, he said “See you tomorrow in the captain’s office.”

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

And that was the last time they talked about it.

At least, it was until things changed.


	2. In Which Someone New Appears

Odo was jerked back to the present by Quark setting down Julian's mug of ale on the bar with a clank.

Julian raised his hands. "Here, now. I don't want to hear anything that I'm not supposed to."

“Odo, I don’t believe I’ve gotten your order yet,” Quark interrupted tactfully. He was dressed in one of his absurd Ferengi suits as usual; an immaculately tailored, brightly colored plaid suit jacket, over a clashing plaid undershirt and vomit-green pants pulled up to his waist. “Blood wine spritzer again?”

Secretly relieved, Odo gave him an irritated look. “No thanks. I’ll try the Romulan ale this time.”

“You sure? It’s strong stuff.”

Odo raised his eyebrows.

“All right, all right!” The Ferengi held up his hands. “And a three percent discount for my favorite security officer this evening, of course.”

“Ten,” Odo shot back.

“Five.”

“Eight and you’ll tell me what the Algolian back there is up to.”

“Done. And I would do that anyway,” Quark said with affronted dignity. He left to go get more drinks.

The other officers were watching with amazement. “You negotiate with Quark at the _bar_?” asked Nerys.

He shrugged. “It’s how you get a good deal.”

Dax grinned at him. “Of course it is. I only don’t do it because I have a standing deal with him that I’ll pay my tab when he beats me at tongo.”

“All that negotiation seems rather time-consuming,” Bashir observed.

“So are eating and drinking,” Odo replied, to general hilarity. He flushed again when he saw the smile Nerys gave him. His solid body had very specific opinions about sitting as close to her as he was, but he was determined not to let them show any more than necessary.

Quark arrived with their drinks moments later. Odo tried the Romulan ale; it almost made him gag. The other officers laughed, but they passed around the ale and gagged with him.

The conversation continued; Odo tried to keep up, but mostly he was quiet. It was so hard to track everything that was happening in a conversation now; the sensations of everything overwhelmed him. The bitter alcoholic flavor lingering in his mouth; the smells of other drinks wafting herbs and liqueurs; his own body odor, vaguely discomfiting, which he tried to scrub away twice a day with the sonic shower but seemed to reappear disturbingly quickly; the gentle musks of the other officers, soap and human bodies. The stale sweat and rank perfume of the bar. He recognized some of the smells, but he’d never been able to sense them quite as intensely as a human did. His emotions tugged at him in ways they never had before becoming a solid; every time one of his friends laughed, or frowned, or coughed, they went off like little fireworks inside his head. It was, frankly, distracting.

Which might be why he was slow to react when the Algolian started shouting at the back of the bar.

There was a flurry of movement and stools crashing. Odo turned his head slowly as the man yelled “You were _listening_ to my _conversation!”_

Quark leaped out of the way just a moment too late, and the Algolian’s wine bottle broke with a crash on his dragging elbow. The Ferengi yelped and screamed “Security!”, still dodging out of the irate patron’s warpath.

Odo untangled his legs as quickly as he could, tapping the communicator on his chest as he did so: “Security team to Quark’s.” He was on his feet in a moment and across the bar in a few strides, grabbing the Algolian’s arm. The part of him that was still a shapeshifter felt, deep down, that there was nothing this man could possibly do to hurt him. He would simply hold him in a vice grip until the team arrived, and--

The furious alien whirled on him. “He was _invading_ my _private conversation!”_ Odo opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, the Algolian smashed what remained of the glass wine bottle on his forehead, and the world exploded in a shower of sparks.

He couldn’t help it-- he let go of the man’s arm, dazed by the pain, unable to think or act. He fell backward, then caught himself on a chair and staggered to his feet.

By the time he could see clearly again, Major Kira had swept the Algolian’s feet out from under him and had him in a headlock, his junior officers had arrived to take the man to a holding cell, and Dr. Bashir was standing in front of him, saying “Odo, let me see that.”

He grimaced, and nodded.

Kira glanced over at him, then looked away. “You all right?” she asked, not looking at him directly.

He grunted. “I’ll be fine. Just not used to…” He couldn’t find a way to finish the sentence that wasn’t criminally embarrassing, and let it trail off into nothingness as the doctor swept across his face with a beeping medical instrument.

She nodded. “Good. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

The bar cleared out soon after that, and he let Julian lead him to sick bay for a quick application of an antibacterial hypospray and an admonishment to go back to his quarters and rest.

His quarters were still relatively bare. They were mostly taken up by a set of objects from his shapeshifting days, a playground-like assembly of curved metal bars and spheres, made of copper and gold and aluminum. He used to enjoy transforming into objects of different densities. Now… these things that had brought him joy were just dead objects, crowding the room so that there was only room for a narrow, Station-issue twin bed. He hadn’t bothered to change things any more than that, apart from opening the door to the adjoining bathroom occasionally. He’d considered having it remodeled into more usable space before he was turned; now, it seemed lucky that he’d never gotten around to it.

Odo didn’t feel particularly subservient to Dr. Bashir, but he wasn’t about to take any chances with medical advice at this time in his life. He lay on his bed, as ordered.

He wondered if he would ever get used to this.

But not for long, as he drifted off into an involuntary dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was a day or two later when Quark came to Odo’s office.

The ex-shapeshifter was looking over crime reports for the station, as he usually did when he had some spare time on his hands. His office was small, holding only his desk, a swivel-back chair, and a couple of stools for visitors on the other side, almost backing up to the door. The upper half of the wall on the entry side was made of glass windows; perhaps the Cardassians hadn’t thought the security chief needed privacy when constructing this station.

When the Ferengi appeared, the sliding glass doors opened immediately and he entered without asking permission.

“What is it?” Odo didn’t look up.

“I came because I have something I think you might be interested in acquiring,” he said without preamble.

“And what might that be?” His tone was skeptical, but not overly so; he’d occasionally had reason to acquire items from Quark for reasons related to station security.

“I’m not sure yet, but I think it’s a changeling.”

He glanced up sharply. “What do you mean, _acquire_? Surely slavery is a bit below even you, Quark.”

“It’s dormant,” he explained. “If it is a changeling at all. It might be one of the ones you talked about—the hundred that the Founders sent out. Only it never left its bottle.”

Odo rose out of his chair. “Show me.”

Quark brought a briefcase from behind his back. “I will. But name a price first.”

“Excuse me?” The ex-shapeshifter loomed over him. He stood a full head higher than the Ferengi, and there was nowhere for Quark to back up in the cramped office. “You expect me to _pay_ for one of my long-lost siblings, who’s been floating around the universe alone for who knows how long? A _child_?”

“Not pay for the child, exactly,” he said, wringing his hands. “No. Obviously not, that would be completely inhumane. Not at all. But I did go to some considerable trouble and expense to acquire it for you, which I think is relevant to the situation, insofar as it would be fair for there to be some sort of finder’s fee in compensation. It’s really for the best for everyone. If, for example, I were to run across news of another changeling, and you had confiscated this one from me without compensation, I might not be so positively inclined to seek it out. And you wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?” He ended this speech talking much faster and higher than he had begun.

Odo kept looming. Quark didn’t move.

“Fine,” said the ex-shapeshifter with a sigh, rocking back onto his heels. “Five slips of latinum. And only if it’s still alive.”

Quark touched his chest in shock. “Thievery! At least one full bar!”

They settled on the terms and Quark’s finder’s fee relatively quickly, after which he took the briefcase, set it on Odo’s desk, dialed the code to open it, and gently, reverently, took the lid and lifted it backward.

There it was: a squat, translucent blue tube, no larger than his hand, resting gently in the velvet of the case. And suspended inside it, an amorphous mass of shiny material. Odo reached out as if to touch it, then pulled his hand back; then he said, “Code.” Quark nodded, punched a few numbers into a tablet, and handed it to him.

The ex-shapeshifter closed the case and locked it, then picked it up, hefting it in two hands. He held it with both palms up, with a sense of reverence. “Let’s get this to Dr. Bashir.”

* * *

After a couple of hours, the terms of the transaction between Odo and Quark were settled; the Ferengi left the lab with the full amount of his fee.

“It’s going to take time to reanimate,” the doctor warned him, still taking readings from the exterior of the force field holding the changeling child. “I don’t know what conditions changelings need to grow in their first months, but it can’t have been good for it to be in that tube for so long.”

“That’s all right.” Odo watched the little puddle of goo, spread out on a pedestal at chest level for easy viewing. “I took time to grow, too.”

Bashir nodded. “I suppose we all did, at that.” He folded up the instrument he was using and put it in his pocket. “Well, I think I’m going to head to my quarters for the evening. Do you—”

“May I—”

The two of them both stopped, gesturing at each other, and it was Odo who began speaking again. “Is it all right if I … stay with it for a while?”

“Of course,” he said.

When Julian was gone, he took a few steps closer, until his face was just six inches away from the child, peering down at it.

It wasn’t moving much. Was Odo mobile at that age? It was hard to remember anything from that period of his development. He remembered further back than humans did, he thought, but still not infinitely far.

Had this child ever been in the Great Lake? It must have been, in some way; all changelings were created when they came from the Great Lake. Would it remember it? Probably not.

“I know what that’s like,” he said aloud. Not knowing what it was like to be part of your own people.

But then, this child would at least know who its own people were. It would know where it came from, and where to find them, if it ever wanted to go back. Maybe after the war, it would. It could be part of the Great Lake again, where Odo never would.

It would know. Odo would tell it.

Something shifted inside him, at that realization. He hadn’t considered it, or made a decision at all; it was simply a certainty inside him, which was there already, and which he was only just now noticing consciously. He would be there for this child. He would be the one to tell it about their people, their history, and where it came from. He would be there for it, in a way that no one ever had for him.

Odo stepped back and settled himself into one of the benches of the lab, still watching the force field and the little blob inside it.

He thought he might stay here a while longer.


	3. In Which History Repeats Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: parental abuse. I've been told that my portrayal of an emotionally abusive parent is very accurate, so, do with that what you will. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Sisko was sitting behind his desk reading reports when Odo entered his office. The sliding door closed behind the ex-shapeshifter, sealing out the hum of voices working on the bridge.

“Chief,” Sisko greeted him.

“Captain,” Odo replied. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I heard that Quark brought you a changeling.”

He inclined his head. “A changeling child, yes. Dr. Bashir helped it along a bit; being dormant for so long seems to have made it… sick.”

“I see.” The captain picked up the baseball from his desk and tossed it idly. “Well, as you can imagine, Starfleet is very interested in this changeling. They want to make sure we have the best talents available working on it.”

“Hm,” Odo grunted. “And that means…”

“Yes. Dr. Mora, the scientist who discovered you.”

Odo usually had an impenetrable poker face, but a flash of dismay crossed his face before being forcibly resolved. “I see.”

“He’ll be arriving on a transport tomorrow morning.” Sisko placed the baseball back on his desk and steepled his fingers, looking up. “I want you to prepare to work with him. Give him all the data you’ve gotten so far on its development. Starfleet wants to know whatever we can find out from this changeling, given the situation with the Dominion.”

Odo paused just a fraction of a second before replying, “Yes, sir.”

The captain softened his expression just slightly. “I know you’ve had issues with Dr. Mora in the past, but give him a chance. He knows more about changeling development than anyone this side of the wormhole, and we need his expertise to get this thing done.”

Odo’s expression was fixed. “Yes, sir.”

Sisko suppressed a sigh. “Dismissed, chief.”

* * *

Odo didn’t particularly want to meet Dr. Mora at the docking bay, but he thought perhaps it would make things easier to get seeing him over with. He was wrong.

“Odo!” The doctor sighted him as soon as he stepped out of the docking bay door, shaped like a giant gear that rolled out of his way. “It’s so good to see you. How are you holding up?”

He gave a little nod. “Fine. How was your trip?”

“Oh, just fine. Bajor isn’t so far, after all. Not much of a trip at all, really. Not like some of what you’ve been up to lately, eh?”

Odo forced a smile. “I suppose so.” He gestured in front of him. “I can show you to your quarters on the station, if you’d like.”

“Absolutely.” Mora fell into step beside him. “Odo, it’s so good to see you again. You look so … different.”

“Really? That’s not what the other senior officers said.”

“Oh, absolutely! It’s subtle, but it’s really quite noticeable for someone who knows you well.” He glanced over, surveying Odo while keeping one eye forward. “I don’t think you ever managed hair that realistic before. Flyaway wisps and all. And your ears! Completely normally shaped. But you don’t have a brow ridge, like a Bajoran. Did they make you human, then? I wonder why.”

“I suppose it’s the closest to the form I’d been assuming before,” he said, a little stiffly.

“Of course, of course. Fascinating. And do you have any idea how the … other shapeshifters … were able to change your form in this way? It’s never been documented that changelings could modify each other so dramatically, or reform into an actual solid being irreversibly.”

“No,” he said shortly.

“Hmm. You’ll have to ask them for me next time you see another changeling, then.”

“I don’t expect that will happen anytime soon,” said Odo, then shut his mouth, face slightly red.

“Ah. Right,” said Dr. Mora, looking away. “Right. That’s, uh… yes, of course.”

“Your quarters are up ahead,” Odo said, pointing. They were coming up to an intersection in the hallway. He’d been planning to bring Mora all the way to his door, but… well. “I have duties to attend to. I’ll see you in the lab this afternoon.”

Mora brightened. “Excellent. See you then.”

* * *

“Fifty millivolts,” proclaimed Dr. Mora. “That’s what we need.”

“Wait a minute,” said Odo. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Odo, we never were able to get you to shift into a coherent shape until we applied fifty millivolts,” the doctor said patiently. “That was the first time you formed a cube. Do you remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he said sharply. “Because it was one of the most painful events of my life. There’s no way that that’s necessary.”

Mora raised his palms up in half-defeat, half-shrug. “It was for you.”

“It was _not!”_ His voice was getting louder. “The things you did to me were _torture._ ”

The doctor grimaced. “We didn’t have a choice. Starfleet needed results, so we had to use strong measures. And you have to admit, Odo, it worked. You’re here now.”

“Well, yes, but--”

“And it wasn’t as if we _knew_ at the time that you were experiencing pain. For that matter, we didn’t even know you were a sentient being in the early days!”

“That’s beside the point,” Odo said through gritted teeth. “You know now. You can stop before you start.”

He gave another shrug. “But it needs to grow up sometime, Odo. Don’t you want it to learn to shift?” Mora reached for the console, as if to forestall further argument.

His hand halted partway through the motion. Odo had it in a viselike grip.

“No,” he said. “You aren’t going to do to this child what you did to me.”

“Odo--” the doctor started, in soothing tones.

“ _No,”_ he repeated, in a tone that brooked no further argument.

Dr. Mora stared at him, his face showing a mixture of confusion and amusement, as if he were watching a trained bear go on strike and carry around a picket sign. There was a long pause.

Finally he drew his hand back. “All right, Odo. We’ll do it your way for now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it doesn’t respond to the stimuli you’re providing.”

* * *

After several long hours working with Dr. Mora, Odo was feeling a strong need to sit down, eat something, and not see another solid’s face for several hours.

He didn’t have a replicator in his quarters, though -- he’d never needed one before, and the station engineers hadn’t gotten to installing one for him yet -- so he had to go to Quark’s.

He ordered food as he entered, then sat at a single table in a corner, behind a pillar, far from the bar itself and, most importantly, far from any other patrons.

The Ferengi brought him a sandwich, and upon seeing the look on Odo’s face, said in his smoothest tones “Anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

Quark discreetly chose that moment to pull out his tablet and go over his order list, giving no sign that he was going to disturb Odo in any way.

Sure enough, after just a moment, the ex-shapeshifter let out a groan and said “Dr. Mora is truly intolerable.”

“That bad, huh?”

“He won’t listen to anything I say. It’s as if he doesn’t even _care_ if the changeling is being tortured! He treats me like… like…”

“Like a kid,” Quark finished. “ _Fathers_.” He said it like a curse.

Odo glanced up. “Did your father treat you this way?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “Especially when I left Ferenginar. Things got a lot easier when I didn’t have to see his face every day. Made me realize that I never really had to listen to him in the first place.”

Odo smiled a little at that. “Heh.”

“He was a great Ferengi, of course. Should have listened to him once in a while.” Quark finally looked up from the tablet. “Well. Good luck with it.” He walked off to another table.

The ex-shapeshifter nodded his thanks. He started eating his sandwich, and thinking.

* * *

Odo had formed a plan for the next day of research. He would ask Dr. Mora to list off all the treatments he had given Odo, and cross-reference it with his experiences. From there, they could narrow it down to the treatments most likely to result in shapeshifting, but least likely to result in harm to the child.

It was a good plan. But first, he needed to meet with Captain Sisko. They had a daily security briefing every morning, which still took precedence over the work he was doing with Dr. Mora (though he had handed over some of his duties over to his chief lieutenant for the time being).

“Good morning, Chief,” said the captain as he entered.

“Good morning, Captain. Here’s yesterday’s reports.” He handed over a tablet.

“Thanks. Anything notable?”

“Not in particular. We found the culprit for the thefts last week; he’s in a holding cell.”

“Good.”

Odo turned to leave.

“One more thing, Chief.”

He turned back.

“I’ve spoken with Dr. Mora about your work with the changeling child.” He was regarding Odo from behind crossed arms. “He says you’ve been refusing to allow him to work. Is that true?”

Odo sputtered in indignation. “Of course not. I spent hours working with him yesterday.”

“But there are interventions that you’ve prevented him from doing. Is that right?”

He exhaled. “Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they would … hurt it.”

“I see.” Sisko drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. “Odo, it’s extremely important that we find out as much as we can, as soon as we can. Starfleet needs to know more about the Founders and their plans, and this changeling is one of them. Your objections are not sufficient to override that need. Is that understood?”

Odo stood there for a long moment, staring at the captain.

“Odo! Is that understood?”

Finally he gave a short, stiff nod.

“Good. I hope I won’t be hearing from the doctor again.”

“No, sir. You won’t.”

He turned to leave, walking more slowly this time.

* * *

On the long walk to the lab from the bridge, Odo mentally went over his options.

He couldn’t think of any that would change anything. It wasn’t as if he could directly contravene Sisko’s orders, when Mora had gone over his head. He could try to convince Mora that the changeling mattered, that the pain it felt now was important, even if it wouldn’t last… but he didn’t see that strategy particularly going anywhere.

He didn’t really have a plan when he got there. But he would have to try.

“Good morning, Odo,” said Dr. Mora, who was waiting for him at the door to the lab. “Did your chat with captain Sisko go well this morning?”

The doctor was wearing a small smile.

“I think you know how it went,” Odo almost spat.

Mora looked a bit sad. At his advanced age, his face drooped a little bit naturally; normally, though, it was full of excitement and vigor that overwhelmed that impression. Now, though, he let it droop. “I hope you won’t hold this against me too much, Odo. I really just want what’s best for you both.”

Odo ignored this and pushed the console button to open the sliding door to the lab.

He walked inside. The room was neat and trim, like any Starfleet scientific facility. It wasn’t large -- maybe the size of an ordinary bedroom. The walls were lined with alternating consoles, shelves filled with unidentifiable medical instruments -- mostly hyposprays, vials of a few substances that couldn’t be replicated, and various kinds of portable electronics. Generic gray carpet on the floor.

There was one change to this research lab’s normal appearance, which was a single pillar-like counter in the middle of the floor, which at first glance appeared to hold nothing but a small blob of a shimmering, gelatinous material. It was, of course, also holding a force field that kept the blob in place. The changeling child.

A seated console sat on one side of the wall, shaped like a desk built into the wall, covered in buttons and controls for different instruments in the lab, as well as having a generic computing interface built in. There were two rolling chairs at the console set up, the second of which Odo had had brought in for their purposes.

The ex-shapeshifter paused as he entered, glancing at the blob, then looked away. He sat in one of the rolling chairs at the console.

Dr. Mora followed him in, but stopped to look at the changeling on the way.

“Hmm. Not much morphology change overnight,” he remarked.

Odo grunted, his hands moving over the console. His eyes were fixed on the computer readings. “There was a slight increase in the selected molecular polarization field.”

“Well, you wouldn’t expect that to be visible with the naked eye,” Mora informed him. “It’s a small improvement, I suppose. A good sign for today, if we start getting serious about developing it.”

Odo didn’t look up.

After a pause, the doctor said “Odo?” in a softer tone of voice.

The ex-shapeshifter finally looked up. “Yes?” His voice was flat.

“Odo, you have to believe me that this is for the best. It needs to grow up, and it will be thankful one day that you did this. Believe me. Children don’t always understand what’s important about the things that their parents do. Sometimes it’s painful at first, but it’s something they need to go through. It’s just part of growing up.”

“You’re wrong about that,” said Odo. “I don’t have to believe you. But that doesn’t matter, since you spoke to the captain about it. We’ll be doing what you want regardless of what I believe,” he finished, bitterly.

“Odo,” Mora said again. Were there—yes, his eyes were just a bit wet. “You really believe that I did this to you on purpose, don’t you? It wasn’t ever what I meant for you. I’m so glad to see how you’ve grown up, and gotten past those early days. They surely weren’t easy for any of us. We were so happy when you shifted for the first time -- do you remember that?”

Odo reluctantly met his eyes. “It — isn’t something I care to remember.” He wondered how much of the shame and doubt that he felt showed on his face. Was he being ungrateful? Dr. Mora had done terrible harm to him, but it was true that he didn’t know about it until later. He didn’t know much about parents — perhaps Dr. Mora was right that this was just a normal part of growing up. He remembered what Quark said — “ _Things got a lot easier when I left Ferenginar.”_

Odo didn’t have that option, though. He remembered suddenly that the important thing was not what had happened to him in the past—it was the fact that there was another changeling here, young and vulnerable.

But he couldn’t protect it.

Dr. Mora had been watching his face, while these thoughts crossed his mind behind it, and latched onto what he saw there with unnerving precision. “It will be all right, Odo. I promise you. You’ll see when it learns to shift. Once you can speak to it, once it learns more, it will be so happy to sense you with real eyes for the first time. I hope— I hope I can be there for some of that,” he added, a bit shyly.

A wave of revulsion passed over him. Odo grunted, not allowing himself to speak.

The doctor sighed. “Well. I suppose you’re not going to change how you feel about it right now. Let’s just move ahead with the treatment, then. Five millivolts to start with, and gradually increasing. I’ll set up the force field to encourage it to form a cylinder.”

Odo nodded.

He had delayed as long as he could.

Hand on the dial, he began to turn up the voltage.


	4. In Which Public Order Is Disturbed

Major Kira was strolling down the Promenade towards her quarters, thinking about what she would do when she got back there. Maybe some Bajoran red wine, a long hot shower with real water… it had been a long day dealing with bureaucrats and politicians, and some time to herself was appealing.

Her dreams were shattered when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. She didn’t stop walking. “What is it, Quark?”

“Very perceptive, Major. I’m impressed.” The Ferengi broke into a half-jog to catch up to her.

“Obviously. Did you want something?”

“Well, you know I wouldn’t normally disturb you—” _because you know what’s good for you,_ she thought— “but it’s Odo. He’s, uh, having a rough time and I think it might be good for someone on the senior staff who, ah, knows him well to, say, ask him what’s wrong?”

She finally stopped. “Your concern is heartwarming. How many citations did he give you this time?”

Quark’s huge earlobes twitched. His expression was pained. “Well. Just the one. It’s really more that he’s driving away business, at this point.”

She heaved a huge sigh. “Fine.” Privately, she didn’t mind going to talk to Odo overmuch, but she wasn’t about to let Quark see that. With exaggerated slowness, she turned and walked back towards the bar after him.

She quickened her step once they reached the main area of the Promenade and she didn’t hear the usual hum of Quark’s establishment. Sure enough, as she reached the entrance and Quark peeled off to a safe distance behind the bar, she saw that the place was virtually empty.

The bar was a large room, with openings to the Promenade on the upper and lower floors. There was a row of stools at the bar, at present all empty except for Odo, sitting by himself. Empty tables and chairs filled the remainder of the room, except for the spiral staircase up to the second floor, with additional seating and the Holosuites, and the dabo wheel and gaming table, at present unattended by either staff or customers. It appeared that the few remaining customers who hadn’t fled the bar entirely were crowded onto the upper floor, a few of them throwing irritated glances over the railing as Kira looked up at them.

“Hey, Odo,” Kira said, sliding into the stool next to him. Quark was nowhere in sight, having good senses of both discretion and self-preservation. “How are you doing?”

“Oh, Nerys!” He looked up at her, his face lighting up heartbreakingly fast. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to say hello. How about yourself? Not a lot of other people around.” She made a show of glancing around the empty establishment.

His face darkened. “For the best, I think. It was getting overly rowdy in here. The patrons were … disturbing public order, against Station regulations.”

“I… see,” she said.

“I only gave them a warning,” he said confidentially. “I’ve found it’s better to be somewhat lenient, in such cases.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Odo, is something bothering you?”

He looked surprised. “Why do you ask?”

She sighed. “Well… don’t you think that giving everyone in the bar a warning for disturbing public order is a bit… much?”

“I--” His face contorted. “It’s within my duties as chief security officer to…”

Kira raised her eyebrows.

“... well, maybe I could have been … more diplomatic,” he admitted.

“You usually get pretty undiplomatic when something is bothering you,” she observed, not asking a second time.

He blew out a breath. “Quark! Another kanar, if you would.”

“Of course,” said the Ferengi, appearing out of nowhere. “Anything for you, Major Kira?”

“I’ll have a glass of Bajoran red.” If she wasn’t going to get that long, hot shower, she might as well fulfill that part of her evening plans. It might be nice to drink it while talking to someone else, anyway.

* * *

(Odo, while halfway through his explanation of what had happened with Dr. Mora, the changeling child, and Captain Sisko, suddenly realized that he was rapidly getting drunk, alone with Kira Nerys. He decided to repress that knowledge as far as he possibly could.)

* * *

Partway through Odo’s explanation of what was going on with the changeling child, in between breaths, Kira paused to ask him “So the changeling is still so young that it can’t shift at all, not even a little?— What’s its name, anyway? I don’t think I can just keep calling it ‘the changeling.’”

He blinked. “I… I never thought about it.”

“Oh. Well, just a passing thought. Might be nice.”

“You’re right,” he said, frowning. “I don’t know what to call it, though. Changelings—I think we usually don’t have names. My name is just based on what the scientists called me before they knew I was sentient. But yes-- it needs a name, if it’s going to live here on the station with me. Something that would make sense to solids…”

Kira had caught the key part of that sentence. “It’s going to live here on the station with you? Odo, you’re going to be a real parent to it, aren’t you?”

He turned his face towards her, and it was shining. “Nerys, I think I already am. I thought I was never going to see anyone of my kind again, and to have found this child, and be able to care for it, show it the world… It’s such an incredible feeling, seeing it grow, seeing it start to shift …” His face clouded. He looked down, and away from her.

“I thought you said it was too young to shift yet.”

Odo picked up his drink and took a long swig from the tall, green glass. He set it down heavily. “It was. But.”

He explained that Dr. Mora had wanted to do treatments to it that he remembered as… some of the most painful of his life. That he’d stopped it at first, but that Captain Sisko had overruled him, saying that Starfleet’s intelligence concerns overrode his objections. That today, he and Dr. Mora had …

“We did it,” he muttered. “We delivered fifty millivolts to its body. And it shifted. It was a cube, and then a cylinder, and then lapsed into its normal shape a few minutes after we removed the voltage.” He heaved a sigh and took a drink from his kanar again. He’d been trying various drinks, and the Cardassian liquor seemed to agree with him when he was in a bad mood. “It worked. Dr. Mora was right.”

Kira was staring at him. “You’re saying you _tortured a baby_ because Starfleet _told you to_?”

Odo blinked.

“I what?”

“Well, it seems pretty simple to me. You inflicted extreme pain on a young creature, on Captain Sisko’s orders. You don’t need to do that, Odo.” She lowered her voice, scanning the bar for any alert bystanders, and didn’t see any. “That’s an illegal order, straight out.”

“I don’t think the Federation would see it that way,” he said, slowly.

“Of course they would, if you got it in front of a court. Odo, that is _wrong._ I’ve seen some things in my time on Bajor—hell, I’ve been on both sides of interrogations. But a child too young to speak or, or," she waved her hands, "or even make a solid form?” She shook her head. “That’s completely indefensible. I don’t know much about the particulars of Federation law, but there’s no way that’s legal. Bajor wouldn’t allow it, and we’re as backward as you can get and still _almost_ be in the Federation.” The corners of her mouth turned up just a bit at that, but she was deadly serious.

Odo met her eyes, finally. His eyes were unfocused, maybe from the alcohol, maybe just from being confused by what she said. She could give him a minute, then. “Look, tell you what. I’ll walk you back to your quarters, and we can talk more about this in the morning. I’ll see what I can find out about Federation regulations. I’m sure we can…” Belatedly, she remembered that this was Captain Sisko they were talking about -- the Emissary. How could he do something so clearly immoral? “I’m sure the captain will change his mind once he understands what he’s asking you to do.” She hoped.

He nodded. “Thank you, Nerys. One more thing, though.” He raised a finger. “It needs a name.”

“Oh,” she said. She’d almost forgotten about that throwaway comment she’d made. But then, giving the creature a name might help to be more sympathetic, if Odo had to appeal to a Federation Tribune. “Yes.”

He thought for a minute. “Something short, like mine. Not too confining. Something it can choose to make into whatever it wishes, later in life…”

Kira nodded. “I can think of a couple of Bajoran names that fit those criteria.”

“What are they?”

“Kova, Inell, Pom … “

“The second one,” the ex-shapeshifter said. “I like it. Inell. It has a nice ring to it.”

“Inell,” Kira repeated. “It’s a good name."

She told him some stories about a couple of people she'd known back on Bajor with that name. One had been a resistance fighter; he wasn't someone she knew well, but he'd been part of some important missions for their movement. Another had been a young girl, who she'd known as a child and lost touch with later. She didn't mention that last part.

The stories took some time, during which Odo kept drinking his kanar.

Odo nodded, after she'd told the last tale about stealing buns from the kitchen with her friend. “A goooood name…” He was leaning against the bar now, his eyelids drooping. “‘f I’m around long enough to give it.”

“You will be,” said Kira, not bothering to argue with the idea that Odo not being around was even possible. “But first, let me walk you back.”

He smiled. “Haven’t walked you back… after the barrr… since… since… y’know.”

Nerys smiled back, just a little. “Don’t worry. I won’t take advantage.”

She’d been serious, but he laughed as if she’d said something hysterical. “Y— you—take— ! Haha, hahahahah… “

Alarmed, she said “You really need to get to bed, don’t you.” Couldn’t hold his liquor at all now that he was a solid, she supposed.

He nodded, subsiding into giggles, then silence.

“Thank you, Nerys,” he said, sober for a moment.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and put her arm under his shoulder, supporting him as they walked out of the bar.


	5. In Which The Law Is Invoked

Dr. Mora was feeling good this morning. They’d made a lot of progress with the changeling yesterday, and he was looking forward to further productivity today. Maybe they could try to work on more complex shapes; so far they’d only tried Platonic solids, but the sooner they got to humanoid forms, the better. Then they’d be able to teach it how to sense the world around it, and eventually to communicate… But such things were a long way in the future. It had taken Odo several months to get to even the most rudimentary of communication, and he didn’t expect to be able to make enormous improvements on that. Though who knew, maybe he would make a completely new breakthrough… Should he be trying more novel treatments? Perhaps radically higher doses of radiation … as long as he could be confident it wouldn’t cause permanent damage …

These were the thoughts going through his mind as he walked briskly down the corridor towards the lab. He turned the corner and saw Odo some ways down the gray hallway, a tall, stiff figure in his ochre Station Security uniform, waiting silent and motionless in front of the door to the lab. His arms were folded.

It was odd behavior, Mora mused. Most solids would find somewhere to sit, perhaps lean on the wall, in the absence of military discipline. Odo must have learned his habit of postural perfection back when he didn’t have muscles to get tired, and kept it. Or maybe he chose to appear that way because he was still in the habits of the Cardassian occupying force, from way back when they controlled Deep Space Nine? It was hard to say.

Absorbed as he was in these musings on Odo’s internal state, he didn’t notice until he was right in front of him that the ex-shapeshifter was wearing the grimmest expression he’d ever seen.

The smile melted off Dr. Mora’s face when he made eye contact with Odo. “Good morning, Odo,” he said, unable to keep the cheerful note out of his voice, but trying to sound empathetic. “How are you doing?”

“I’d like to have a discussion with you before we start our work today.”

“Certainly! But let’s get started while we talk,” he said, stepping into the doorway. The automatic doors parted with a whir. “I have some procedures in mind that will take time to—”

Before he made it through the door, he felt Odo’s grip on his arm — _not as iron as it used to be_ , he thought fleetingly, but still quite preventing him from entering the lab.

The automatic doors froze in place. Mora glanced up at Odo and made a token effort to move his arm, which didn’t get far.

“We’re having this discussion _before_ we start for the day, Doctor.”

Dr. Mora stayed motionless for a moment, and replied "Hmm, that's a good idea. Better to get all this stuff out of the way to begin with." He turned back towards Odo as if it had all been his idea. He may as well cooperate, since Odo was clearly going to be stubborn about this.

His son tightened his grip on his arm for a moment as he started to move, then relaxed. "Glad you agree, Doctor." Was that a drop of sarcasm he caught in Odo's voice? Impressive point of subtlety on his part, if so. The door to the lab whirred softly shut behind him.

"Let's get started by discussing the plan for today," he began, in a soothing voice.

"That's not what I had in mind," Odo said, folding his arms. "Let's go to my office."

The walk to the security office, down the Promenade, was a long, silent, and uncomfortable one. Dr. Mora found himself wondering at Odo's behavior. He was almost treating him like a criminal -- but that was deeply strange. His own father? Surely whatever he was upset about, Mora could help reassure him. He took comfort in that thought as they approached the glass doors that marked the security chief's office.

As he entered, Odo picked up an empty data tablet from his desk and handed it to him. "Here. I want you to fill out a list of all the interventions you performed on me, before I was able to communicate verbally, that caused any sort of perceptible reaction. Once you're finished, we," his mouth twisted, "will discuss the list together."

Dr. Mora smiled a little, involuntarily. "Oh, is that all? It's good to see you interested in the research process, Odo," he said, very sincerely. He'd always hoped that his son would ask him more about his childhood -- that they might discuss the technical details, even -- but Odo had always been strangely uninterested. But, children didn't always want to follow in their parents' footsteps, he supposed.

But. Gratified as he was, something seemed a little off about this. "Odo," he said hesitantly. "I'm happy to discuss this, of course. Perhaps we could do it while waiting for an assay to run, however? You know that time is—"

"This can't wait," said the ex-shapeshifter.

He grimaced a little bit. He didn't want to pull this card, but he didn't want to get in hot water with Starfleet, either. "As you say, Odo. You know, of course, that I'm going to have to discuss this with Captain Sisko."

Odo leaned to the side in his chair, and Mora was confused, then realized that his son must be reaching for a button behind and under his desk. The button itself made no sound, but he could tell it had been pressed, because the sliding door behind him locked with an audible click. He started, then looked back at Odo with a sudden sense of betrayal.

"Of course," his son said tonelessly. "But first you'll fill out this tablet, and we'll discuss it."

Dr. Mora couldn't make any sense whatsoever out of this situation, but plainly, there was no way out but though.

He put on a bright smile as best he could, and reached for the part of his brain that was always running, generating explanations for funding committees, Starfleet, and other meddlers. "Certainly, background research is crucial for this investigation. We'll do it first, to make sure we have the proper preparation before going any further. It's absolutely necessary."

Odo pulled his arm back and folded his arms again, in his customary unreadable expression. "Glad you agree, Doctor."

He said nothing more while Mora began to fill out the tablet.

* * *

An hour or so later, after cross-referencing his memory with computer records, chatting with the station computer to narrow things down, and editing the list down to Odo's specifications, Mora said, "I believe that's all."

The ex-shapeshifter, who had apparently been reading security reports this entire time—how much crime did this backwater station have?—looked up from his console and took the tablet from his father's outstretched hand.

He scanned it for a moment and said, "Doctor, I don't see the displayed response listed here next to the treatment description."

"Ah, yes. Of course. I'll add that," he said, reaching for the tablet again, though he had no real idea why Odo wanted the data in that format. At this point, he just wanted this over with as quickly as possible.

After a few more minutes, he handed Odo back the tablet with the upgraded view he'd asked for.

His son scanned the tablet for a few minutes, then started reading more carefully, starting from the top. He pulled out a pen and started taking notes on the tablet, at which point Mora started to feel rather antsy.

"I'll just—You can spend as much time as you'd like looking that over," he offered, starting to rise from his chair.

He took a half-hearted step towards the door. Odo glanced up.

"Give me a moment, Doctor," he said. "We'll discuss this in detail shortly."

Mora sat down again.

Odo was true to his word. After no more than fifteen minutes, he set the tablet down on the desk and looked over at Mora.

"I've annotated which of the procedures caused me pain, and which I think we should try," he said gruffly. He pushed the tablet over to Mora's side of the desk, not looking at him.

Mora's eyes lit up. "Fascinating! Why, that’s data we never gathered in the past. I’m sure it will add a lot to our investigation,” Dr. Mora added, trying to sound encouraging. He wasn’t really sure how this could possibly help, but it was interesting data nonetheless, and he was glad Odo had given it to him.

He took the tablet and started paging through the list.

His brows furrowed. He paged back, then forward again.

“You, er …” he said hesitantly. “That many of them?”

Odo nodded silently.

“Hmm,” he said dubiously, glancing back down at the tablet. “I don’t see how this one could have caused that degree of pain. The alpha particle field is not known to have any discernible effect on any known physiologies; we were trying it more or less out of desperation.”

He looked up. Odo’s face was set grimly—not so interested in the scientific process as he’d hoped, then.

“It did have an effect, Doctor,” his son said in an even tone. “You noted it here yourself.”

“Hmm,” he said again. Perhaps better to change the subject. “Well, that’s all right. We can start with the ones you marked, and then—”

“And then, we can see what other treatments we can come up with,” interrupted Odo, leaning over the desk and planting his elbows halfway across, folded. “We are not going to harm … Inell.”

Mora felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, looking at the fierce expression on Odo’s face. He was just so _young._

“You gave it a name?” he asked, stalling. “That’s Bajoran, isn’t it? Where did you hear that?”

Odo reddened slightly. “None of your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you expect me to start calling it _he_ , too, then? It can’t even assume a physical form.”

“That won’t be necessary,” his son said tersely. “It can choose when it gets older what sex to use among solids.”

“You mean you don’t—” With an effort, he stifled his curiosity about this subject, realizing that he shouldn’t stall any longer. “Nevermind. Odo, I’m sorry, but Starfleet is going to—”

“Starfleet is bound by the laws of the Federation,” Odo interrupted. He leaned back behind his desk and the door unlocked with a click, then slid open behind Mora. The ex-shapeshifter stood up. “And so are you. And so is Captain Sisko, for that matter. You can tell him whatever you want. No one is going to harm Inell.

“Now let’s get back to the lab.”

* * *

The call came sooner than Odo had expected, but not by much. He was in his quarters that evening when the ship’s computer summoned him to Captain Sisko’s office.

When he arrived, Mora and Sisko were both waiting for him.

“Chief,” the captain barked without preamble as soon as the door slid shut. “Explain yourself.”

Odo’s arms were already folded. “I apologize, Captain. I should have informed you earlier that your order was illegal and I did not intend to follow it.”

Sisko’s mouth opened and closed several times. Dr. Mora, wisely, kept his mouth pressed firmly shut.

Finally the captain said “Illegal under what code?”

Odo quelled the smug smile that desperately wanted to escape as he said this. “The ninth guarantee of the Constitution of the United Federation of Planets. ‘Cruel and unusual punishments shall not be inflicted on any sentient person, as defined above, this judgment to be rendered by their peers.’ As the only shapeshifter or former shapeshifter on this station, I believe that several of the interventions recommended by Dr. Mora violate the Constitution.”

The captain’s face was getting darker and darker as he spoke, but Odo wasn’t done yet. “Additionally, Inell is a minor, and I am its legal guardian. I have the right to refuse medical treatments on its behalf.” He silently thanked Dr. Bashir for putting him in touch with the Federation lawyer who had told him this, hoping that the doctor wouldn’t suffer blowback from Starfleet; he certainly didn’t intend to let the captain know that Julian had helped him with this in any way.

(Dr. Mora wore the same sad expression throughout all of this.)

He was expecting … more shouting? A defense of the captain’s actions? Some kind of riposte? But Captain Sisko, while his face was grim, did none of those things.

“Inell?” he said.

“That’s the child’s name,” Odo replied, putting a faint but firm emphasis on the world _child_.

“Very well,” he said with a startling abruptness. “Dismissed.” Still grim-faced, he nodded at Dr. Mora.

The doctor left the office first, Odo still staring at the captain. He turned and followed his father out, feeling distinctly that a single shoe had dropped.


	6. In Which Friendship Is Preserved

Odo realized that evening, as he was preparing to go to Nerys’s quarters and tell her what had happened with the captain, that he hadn’t been looking after his appearance much these past few days.

He’d struggled with maintaining a basic level of presentability since becoming a solid. A week or so after the switch, Dr. Bashir had very kindly taken him aside and explained about … changing clothes, and showering. He cringed to recall that conversation -- not one that most thirty-year-old solids had to get from their younger friends, he had realized after it happened.

He knew he wasn’t very good at pretending to be a solid. He’d mostly gotten used to it over the years. But it had gotten thrown in his face over and over, once he’d been subjected to some of their worst biological realities.

Since then, he’d made an effort to change his uniform with the replicator and take a sonic shower every single day. He hadn’t missed one yet. He was afraid that one day he’d forget and end up having another chat with Julian. Or worse, no one would tell him; they’d just notice, and not say a word.

Nerys wouldn’t do that to him. If she noticed his hygiene being subpar, she would just tell him, with no hesitation. But he didn’t want to make her do that, or, for that matter, experience it from his own point of view.

So now he stood in front of his bathroom mirror—restored along with the rest of the bathroom when he became a solid—having just freshly showered and replaced his uniform, and tried to straighten the errant strands of his hair out with his fingers a bit.

Then he paused and looked at it more closely—was it—yes, the hair was noticeably _longer_ than it had been a month ago! _How could solids possibly cope with this?_ he wondered. Everything in their body constantly changing and falling apart? It was honestly a miracle that they managed to get anything done, with the time they spent on showering and changing clothes alone, let alone this … dead protein maintenance he was now being forced to do. Some humans shaved it all off, didn’t they? Maybe that would be easier to deal with …

He shook his head. This would have to do; he thought he had reached the level of presentability where most people wouldn’t bother to comment, which was all he ever really tried to attain. And Nerys wouldn’t mind.

 _But maybe_ , said a treacherous part of his stupid organic brain, _she would like you more if you did an even_ better _job. Isn’t that important to solids? Looking nice? Maybe if she saw you looking nice, she would—_ He quashed that line of thought as unproductive. Nerys wouldn’t mind. It was normal for him. And he had no intention of disturbing their friendship.

* * *

“So he didn’t say anything much to you? Just kicked you out?” Kira asked, taking another bite of her curry.

He shook his head. “No. Well. He did comment on my calling it Inell. He didn’t say anything about the fact that I claimed to be its legal guardian, though.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes took on a faraway cast. She looked down at her food. In the evening lighting of her quarters, her hair was lit like flame.

“What?” he said.

Kira sighed.

“Just … thinking about Yoshi,” she said quietly, into her plate.

“Ah,” he replied, equally quietly, and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “I’m sorry, Nerys.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I was just thinking, at least I got to name someone’s child.” She looked at him and smiled in a way that pierced his heart. “So… thanks for that.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back at her, nor could he stop himself from reaching out to touch her shoulder, to offer comfort as he always would have before—

—and when he squeezed her bare shoulder—she was wearing a white top that left her shoulders exposed, as she usually did when out of uniform-- it felt hot against his palm, and a warm current ran through his entire body. He was still staring into Nerys’s eyes as he did so and her eyes widened — an extraordinary expression that he’d never seen before passed over her face, and he felt the sudden, bone-deep certainty that she knew exactly what had just happened and the same thing had happened to her, even though he had no idea what that thing was.

His breath hitched and he pulled his hand away, trying to do it simultaneously at a normal pace and as fast as he could. He started to speak, then cleared his throat when it didn’t work. “You’re welcome.” He couldn’t look at her. He stared off to the side of the table, at Kira’s potted plant, trying to maintain his sanity and grip on the real world, adrift in the current of whatever horrible thing his new solid body was doing now. The plant had leaves. Lots of large, long, green leaves … he didn’t know what they were called, but it wasn’t like most of the plants he’d seen on Bajor. Maybe the plant had some special meaning to her. Better to be thinking about that than— than—

His head had slowed its spinning, and after what felt like an eternity, he turned his head back. Whatever the strangeness had been, it wasn’t in Kira’s expression anymore; she was just watching him carefully, hand resting on her fork. Evaluating. He’d seen her look like that many times before, sizing up subordinates or people she was negotiating with. But it didn’t feel invasive, from a close friend.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m just feeling a bit … strange.”

“Still not used to the new body?”

He nodded, grateful for his catch-all excuse. “I think I should go back to my quarters.”

“All right.” She stood up to walk him to the door. “Take care of yourself.”

He nodded again and walked out, glancing back at her for politeness’ sake, then keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his destination until the door closed behind him.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Captain Sisko’s office._

Sisko’s office was larger than one might give it credit for at first. When you walked in, the first thing that greeted you was a huge, imposing desk, at least seven feet long and three feet deep. Its shiny black surface was usually completely empty, save the occasional data tablet, and the captain’s infamous baseball on its stand. Sometimes the stand was empty if Sisko was tossing the ball back and forth in contemplation, as he often did.

The next thing you might notice, behind the desk, was the blackness of space, dotted with stars. The entire back wall of the office was a window to the outside.

To the left of the desk, there was a wall. To the right, the office stretched out into empty gray carpet space, with a couple of chairs in front of the window and the opposite wall, occasionally used for extended conversations.

Along the back wall, tucked into the furthest corner from the main entrance, was a console. Sometimes Sisko took calls on datapads, or the small console at his desk; the far console, thus, might be regarded as redundant. But this one was full size, recessed into the wall, and, most importantly, faced away from the entrance — so that neither the captain nor the person he was talking to over the video feed could be seen from the sliding glass doors that were the main entrance to his office.

It was this console that Sisko used now.

“The problem is that he has a point, Admiral,” he said to the screen, frustrated. “I’ve checked with the station’s legal counsel, and there’s clear precedent to support what he’s doing.”

“It’s not acceptable, Ben,” said Admiral William Ross, Sisko’s superior officer, from the screen. Ross was an older man, light-skinned unlike Sisko, a bit heavyset, with dark blue eyes, set deeply into a serious face. He had slight jowls, accentuated by the grim expression he’d been wearing nearly ever since the start of hostilities with the Dominion. “We’ve got a war going on here, and this creature might be a hostile actor.”

Sisko wiped his brow. “He says he’s its legal guardian. It’s a minor, that much isn’t in dispute.”

“Why not?” Admiral Ross pointed out. “We know so little about their physiology. For all we know, this shapeshifter could be a Dominion spy, compressed into a small form, just biding its time for us to let it run loose on the station.”

Sisko’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t thought of that possibility at all. “You might be right,” he said after a moment. “But even if that’s the case, there’s the Constitution argument.”

Admiral Ross waved his hand. “Look,” he said, “the bottom line is, the only thing we have to go on that these treatments are inhumane is Odo’s word. And to be honest …” he shook his head. “He’s a changeling. Ex-changeling, whatever. He’s not exactly a disinterested observer; certainly we don’t have evidence strong enough to meet the legal standard of inhumane treatment. It’s not going to be a problem, Ben.”

He shook his head. “It’s already a problem.”

“What I’m saying is that we can deal with this. We just need to get that creature into a facility where it’s being examined by competent scientists, not this,” he rolled his eyes, “interfering security chief of yours.”

Sisko grimaced. “I can see that.”

“So?” Admiral Ross spread his arms. “Send it to a Starfleet facility. We can have an escort there for it in a couple of days. We’ll get the intelligence we need, and your problem will be solved.”

The captain nodded. “All right. Thank you, Admiral.”

“Anytime, Ben.” The video feed clicked to a black screen.


	7. In Which There Is Nothing To Be Done

Odo found himself in the Captain's office with Dr. Mora for the second time in as many days. He was really getting sick of the place.

There was someone else standing next to Sisko this time, who Odo didn't recognize— a human, maybe in her late thirties, wearing an unfamiliar Starfleet uniform. The uniform jumpsuit, rather than having a banded color to show her category, was gray all the way to the top. He had no idea that meant. She had close-cropped blonde hair and and a serious expression.

"Security Chief Odo," Sisko said, very formally. He was standing up behind his desk, hands linked behind him. That wasn't a good sign. "Given the potential risks inherent in the material you acquired from Quark, and the fact that it could potentially be an enemy combatant, Starfleet is requisitioning the material and will be moving it to a secure facility away from DS9. We are prepared to compensate you for—"

"Enemy combatant?" burst from his lips. "It's a _child!"_

"That has not been clearly established," the blonde officer cut in, and it suddenly occurred to Odo that this person’s job description was most likely “lawyer.” "Changelings have the ability to change their size as well as shape, and we have no—"

"Did you know about this?" Odo turned to Dr. Mora. The doctor didn't meet his eyes. "You know that it's a child! Tell them!"

"Can you tell what the other changeling is thinking, Odo?" Sisko's voice was even.

"No, but I—"

He enunciated very slowly and carefully. "Then how … can you … be sure?" He brought his hand down flat on the table, eyes meeting Odo’s directly.

“There’s clear evidence that its capabilities are just developing. Aren’t there, Dr. Mora?” Odo said pointedly, turning his eyes to his erstwhile adoptive father, who still wouldn’t look at him.

Dr. Mora, staring directly at the lawyer, said only “There is ... weak evidence. It’s not a certainty.”

She inclined her head.

“Since the provenance and status of this changeling is _uncertain,_ ” Sisko said, “Starfleet will be taking control of the investigation.”

Odo’s lip curled in disgust. “Fine.” He started to turn as if to leave.

“I’m not done yet, Chief,” Sisko said sharply. “Starfleet is required to offer you compensation for the material. I understand you paid Quark some kind of finder’s fee. We can offer you that amount, plus a negotiated amount determined by Starfleet. The details are here.” He picked up a data tablet from the desk and held it out to Odo.

He stared at the captain for a long moment, then took the tablet. “Is that all, Captain?” he ground out.

Sisko gave a brief nod. “Dismissed.”

Odo clenched his fist and left the office, walking swiftly.

* * *

Mora caught up to him in the elevator, almost running to keep up with Odo’s long strides.

“Odo!” He managed to jump in the turbolift just before it started to move, stumbling a little bit as it began its descent under his feet. “Odo, I’m sorry about this. I didn’t mean for— for Inell to be taken away like this.”

“And yet you did nothing to change the outcome,” Odo commented, staring at the far side of the lift.

“There was nothing I _could_ do, after what you told Sisko,” Mora retorted. “I warned you that Starfleet wanted control of the investigation. You don’t get to be a military scientist for as long as I have by telling high-ranking officers things they don’t want to hear.”

“Oh, and I suppose that’s _all_ this is about.” Odo turned. "Making Starfleet happy. I thought you said it was for the _best_ that Inell be tortured. For its own good."

"I didn't want it to be taken _away_! I just wanted…"

"You wanted to make things easier for yourself. That's all you really care about. Stop lift."

"Where are you going? This isn't your floor!" But Odo had already stopped the turbo lift and walked out. "Odo—" Mora started forward, then slumped back with a sigh. It wasn't his floor either, and he didn't particularly want to follow the ex-shapeshifter off onto some random part of the station.

After all, he had a lot to do getting Inell — getting the changeling ready for transport in a couple of days.

He sighed again and waited for the lift to continue to the level for the research lab.


	8. In Which Quark's Feelings Are Hurt

That evening, despite the fact that the bar was busy and he was making plenty of profit, Quark was getting a little bit anxious.

On the whole, Odo's transformation into a solid being had been good for business. It wasn't only that he sometimes purchased food and drink; it also meant that he came into the bar more often with friends who did the same, senior officers with generous Starfleet stipends (generous compared to the incomes of his Bajoran patrons, anyway). And most profitably, it meant that Odo was in the bar more often and thus more inclined to ask for little favors related to his _other_ lines of business. These favors didn't always pay out in latinum, but they always were worthwhile in one way or another.

But in the past few days, he hadn't seen Odo often, except sometimes passing by the bar talking to Major Kira in hushed tones. The major, for her part, hadn't been showing up on her regular cadence with the other senior officers, either. Something was up. Something was up and _no one was telling him about it_. Quark did not like this.

As he poured a couple of drinks for Bashir and O'Brien — who were hanging out at the bar dressed in Viking costumes, getting ready for one of their regular Holosuite outings — he noticed Odo walking by very quickly on the upper floor of the Promenade, out of the corner of his eye.

He grabbed his brother Rom's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Watch the bar for me," he ordered, handing Rom the tray of dirty glasses in his other hand.

"Brother, did you forget? I don't work for you anym—" But Quark was already halfway through the exit door across the room.

* * *

(Rom sighed. He'd just have to make sure to ask his brother for extra latinum for doing this. Or better yet, get someone else to do it and _then_ demand more latinum from Quark.)

* * *

Quark pressed himself flat against the wall around the corner from the docking bay.

He'd half expected Odo to just go back to his quarters— that was a good place to do something secretive. But the ex-shapeshifter had made a different turn and taken the turbolift. Quark had some trouble running to the nearest _other_ turbolift, going to the same floor, and catching up to him, but he'd managed it.

After some time, it had become clear that Odo didn't want to be followed. He walked quickly, took random turns, stopped to chat with security officers when he saw them… took the turbolift a couple more times…

But finally, he'd arrived at what seemed to be his destination.

From the next hallway over, Quark couldn't see what was going on, but his keen Ferengi earlobes picked up everything that was happening.

The huge gear that was the docking bay door rolled open just before Odo arrived. His footsteps were quiet but purposeful. Transport records were public; why didn't Odo want anyone to know that he was going to meet someone arriving on this transport? It couldn't be _that_ secret.

A hum of voices spilled out, echoing at first in the concrete-walled docking bay but then becoming more muted as the people talking overflowed into the carpeted hallway. Quark peeled away from the wall and readied himself to start walking in case anyone started walking in his direction. But the voices mostly got quieter; heading in the other direction then.

Then Odo's voice, and just one or two of his footsteps. "Tribune Scofield. Welcome to DS9. Thank you for coming."

"Nice to finally meet you, Odo." The voice was female. Odo's footsteps plus another set began down the hallway— towards the forked hallway Quark was in! Panicked, he started walking quickly away from the intersection, hoping they wouldn't notice him if he were far enough ahead.

"Good to meet you, too. How was your trip?"

"Oh, not too bad. I'm just glad you managed to catch me when I was stationed on Bajor. Sounded like you needed me here pretty quickly."

Quark just barely caught the tiny grunt that Odo emitted as he nodded.

"Anyway, we should talk more in private. Your quarters okay?"

He realized their voices had just gotten much louder, and ducked around a corner a fraction of a second before they would have seen him.

Or so he thought.

"Just one moment, Tribune. I need to take care of something."

Oh no.

He kept walking smoothly and purposefully, just in case. But it did no good.

"Quark. Fancy meeting you here." Odo's voice was suddenly loud in his ear.

He turned with a wide smile on his face. "Odo! So good to see you. I was just checking on a shipment I had on the transport that came in just now. What are you—"

But Odo was having none of it, and, hurtfully, cut off the fountain of bullshit that Quark had handcrafted just for him. "Don't get involved, Quark. There's a reason I haven't told you about this, and it's for your own good. Stay out of it or you can say goodbye to our arrangement."

He let the hurt show on his face. "Why, I never. Odo, are you _threatening_ me?"

"Of course not," Odo said, stepping forward to loom over Quark more effectively. "I'm prevailing on our friendship, which I value so much."

He let out a dramatic sigh. "All right. I hope you know what you're getting into."

"Good." The ex-shapeshifter turned on his heel and left.

Well. That was highly informative.


	9. In Which Odo Is Prepared

"So, do you feel prepared for tomorrow?" Atty. Lewis asked from the viewscreen.

Odo sighed and rubbed his temples, a human gesture that he'd learned to appreciate more deeply once he developed their affliction of headaches. The headaches themselves, not so much. "Can you just go over everything one more time? I want to make sure I have it all in my head before I go to sleep."

"All right.” She started ticking off issues on her finger. “First off. The legal guardian argument. You don’t have any documents to show that you’re officially Inell’s guardian, so this one isn’t going to go anywhere. Additionally, you don’t have clear documentation to show that it is mentally incompetent to take care of itself, which is what’s necessary for control over a minor’s medical procedures. There’s settled precedent for minors under a certain age on a per-species basis in the Federation, but since changelings don’t have that precedent yet, that’s no help.

“Besides which, this is all hindered by Starfleet’s argument that they don’t have certainty of the changeling’s age or mental competence. Mora is the leading expert on the topic, and he’s made it clear that he is unwilling to state definitively that it’s not an adult. Even if you could get together adoption and Federation citizenship papers in, what, two days?—”

“Two and a half days. That’s when the Starfleet delegation is arriving to get it.”

“Right, two and a half days— You could _maybe_ get the standard adoption papers together that quickly, since you’re already a Federation citizen, but the extra paperwork and the guardianship hearings would all take way too long to go through, given the lack of generally available information about changelings in particular and Inell in specific. You could argue that you’re responsible for its welfare, having acquired it from an unknown source, but Starfleet can just say that they’ll be responsible for it once they’ve taken it away from you.”

She took a deep breath, and moved on to the next finger. “So you can’t use that one. The next one is the Constitution of the Federation's Ninth Guarantee. That’s a lot more promising.

“There’s lots of precedent for the Ninth Guarantee being used in cases where the perpetrator didn’t realize that their actions were causing the victim harm. That’s what you want to focus on: Starfleet is legally responsible for harms caused to Inell, regardless of whether they are able to fully ascertain what is harmful and what is not until years after the fact.” She paused. “Actually, that brings up something else I’d intended to mention to you earlier. I don’t want to distract you too much from the case tomorrow, but you should know that these cases can be prosecuted for years and years. The statute of limitations is actually only limited by the lifetime of the victim. And there is some liability even in cases where the harm was entirely accidental or justifiable.”

Odo stared at her stupidly. “Meaning what?”

“Starfleet is also liable for what they did to _you_ ,” she said.

He was silent for a long moment, trying to think about the implications. But it was just too much for Odo to process at this hour of the night. His head was full to bursting with strategies for rescuing Inell, and this new information, which at any other time would have been shocking, emotional, just felt like it was slopping over the side in overflow.

“I see,” he said.

After a long moment, she said, “Right. Well, anyway, about Inell. You made a report indicating your protest of Captain Sisko’s orders two days ago, when you did something to Inell that you believed to be … very painful. Right?”

He nodded. He’d at least thought that far ahead.

“Right. So, what you’re doing in now, which is bringing in a tribune to discuss the case, is just an escalation of that.

“The best argument we have at this point is that Sisko has fairly clear evidence _right now_ that many interventions suggested by Dr. Mora would be extremely painful, which means that he is recklessly or maybe even _knowingly_ ordering torture to be performed. Part of that evidence is your report. You also have the data you obtained from Dr. Mora with a listing of treatments, which you’ve annotated with which you believe to be harmful, right?”

“Right.”

“So that’s some evidence as well, although if the tribune isn’t convinced they should listen to you, it might not be much additional help.”

He nodded, heart heavy.

“What you want to focus on is that you believe _all changelings_ would feel the same way. If it comes out later that there is _additional_ evidence backing you up about this, enough to go before a judge and win, everyone involved would be liable for having caused torture. Sisko would lose his job, as would everyone who helped him, and maybe even go to a Federation prison. Sisko right now probably doesn’t care about that much, because he thinks the chance of bad outcomes is high enough that he’s willing to take the risk; he’s made that much clear.

“But it also looks bad for Starfleet as a whole, and it’s the Tribune’s job to maintain high standards of integrity and prevent this sort of thing. If they think there’s a good chance this will go badly, and result in _irreparable_ harm, they’re obligated to prevent it by giving you a preliminary injunction against Inell being removed from the station and your supervision.

“So that’s what you want to focus on. You believe there is torture happening already, you’ve registered a protest against it, you have specific evidence and notes on what exactly the actions leading to harm were and will be. Any further repetition of these actions would be _knowingly_ subjecting Inell to torture. You request a preliminary injunction on Sisko and Starfleet to prevent irreparable harm to Inell, which is best served by keeping it on the station and keeping you involved in its care.

“You also believe it to be mentally incompetent to care for itself, if that comes up, but you don’t have sufficient documentation to make any kind of case about it, so don’t push too hard on that.

She took a big breath. “That’s the summary. Think you’ve got it?”

He blew out his breath in response. His face was drooping with tiredness, but he set his mouth with grim determination. “I’ve got it.”

She frowned sympathetically, watching him. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you tomorrow. But it’s a relatively straightforward case, and the tribunes usually talk to complainants directly. You should be able to do it.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Attorney Lewis. I’m just lucky you were in range for subspace transmission.”

“For that matter, you’re lucky there was a tribune on Bajor so that you could get them there in time. But I suppose they usually need to have one around, in case there’s any issues.” She shrugged. “All right. Take care, Odo. Try to get some sleep to help you get ready for tomorrow. You need your rest.”

“Good night. Thanks again.”

Odo switched off the video feed.

He had the feeling that, tired as he was, sleep might not come so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Huge thanks to my friend who has a Harvard JD and said, when I asked him if he could give feedback on the legal accuracy of my Star Trek fanfiction, that this was a job he'd been preparing for all his life.


	10. In Which A Decision Is Made

Benjamin Sisko woke up slowly the next morning.

"The time is 7:05 AM," intoned the computer from his bedroom ceiling speaker.

"Yeah, yeah," he said groggily and rolled out of bed.

He went to eat breakfast with his son. He was still silently eating cereal across from Jake, absently trying to remember his dream — something about Cassidy going on a merchant run to a planet populated by rabbit people? — when the ceiling speaker again interrupted his peaceful domestic ritual.

"Captain Sisko." It was Major Kira's voice. "There's a Starfleet Tribune in the main conference room asking to see you. She says it's urgent."

"On my way," he sighed, putting down his spoon.

His teenage son raised his eyebrows at him across the table. "Starfleet Tribune, huh? Can't they wait till you're done with breakfast at least?"

"No," he said briefly, getting up to grab his uniform. "Better not to make a Tribune wait."

* * *

Sisko's chest tightened when he saw the conference room through the small glass window in the door. Odo was sitting at the table with the unfamiliar Tribune, an older woman with gray hair in a severe bun.

He should have known that this could happen. God _damn_ Admiral Ross! But if things had gone this far, there was no way out but through.

He stepped through the door, straightening his uniform sleeves as he did so. He approached the Tribune and held his hand out, and she stood up to meet him. "Tribune. I'm Captain Benjamin Sisko."

She gripped it firmly. "So good to finally meet you, Captain. I've heard so much about—" she glanced back towards Odo, and her voice went just a hair cooler. "About you. Please, sit down."

He took a seat next to her, across from Odo. The ex-shapeshifter inclined his head politely. "Captain."

"Odo," he replied. They both looked at the tribune.

"Well, gentlemen," she said, "I'm here to investigate a serious matter. You should both know that this meeting is being recorded, as a matter of ordinary procedure. The recording will be sealed but may be retrieved later for future proceedings." She looked at both of them for confirmation that they understood. They both nodded in acknowledgment.

"This is regarding an item you obtained three days ago, is that correct, Odo?"

Odo nodded. "It's a changeling. A person, not an item."

"Hmm," said the Tribune. "By 'changeling,' I believe you mean a member of the Founder species, which controls the Dominion. Their home planet is located in the Gamma Quadrant. Is that right?"

Odo nodded again.

She turned towards Sisko. "When did you first become aware that this changeling was on the station?"

"I learned about it from Julian Bashir, the station's medical officer," he replied. "He informed me that Odo had requested some assistance examining the changeling."

"And what did you do when you found this out?"

"I contacted Dr. Mora Pol, a Bajoran scientist who worked with Chief Odo when he was discovered. Dr. Mora is the foremost expert on this scientific problem, and I knew the changeling would be of interest to Starfleet. We needed to have the best possible researchers working with it."

She nodded and turned to Odo. "Chief Odo. What happened next, from your perspective?"

"Captain Sisko informed me that Dr. Mora would be investigating the changeling, with my assistance."

"And did that happen?"

The ex-shapeshifter looked nervous; he shifted in his chair. "Yes. I began working with Dr. Mora to learn more about the changeling, and encourage it to develop."

"Did you cooperate fully with that investigation?"

Odo folded his arms protectively against his chest. "No."

"Why?"

"Because," he said slowly, "some of the treatments he recommended were treatments that I recalled being done to me. They were … extremely painful. I did not believe it was ethical to knowingly subject Inell — the changeling— to these treatments."

The tribune nodded, meeting his eyes with a surprisingly genuine sympathy. "Thank you, Odo.

"Captain Sisko. What happened next, from your perspective?"

"Dr. Mora informed me that Chief Odo was hindering his investigation. He asked me to speak with the chief. I did so."

"Did Odo tell you why he was hindering the investigation?"

His jaw tightened. "Yes."

"What did he tell you?"

"That he regarded some of the treatments being done as unethical."

She turned back to Odo. "Chief. What happened at that point?"

He told her what he and Mora had done.

"And that's when you made this report?" She drew a small data tube out of a pocket in her uniform.

Sisko's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Odo nodded in response to her query.

"All right." She steepled her fingers. "Anything else I should know, before we continue?"

"Yes," both Odo and Sisko chorused, then gestured at each other to continue. Odo lost, and said "I spoke with Dr. Mora later and obtained this data." He handed her a tablet. ****"It's a listing of the treatments done to me, annotated with which ones I believe cause extreme pain. Which would violate the Ninth Guarantee if done intentionally."

Sisko felt his face growing hot with anger, but he said nothing. The tribune accepted the data tablet and asked "Captain?"

He swallowed. No way out but through. "I believe you should know, Tribune, that it has not been conclusively established that this changeling is not an enemy combatant. The possibility must be considered, since changelings can change their size and shape. We also don't have access to important knowledge about changeling physiology and experience that would allow us to make conclusive statements about the effect of any treatments. Releasing the changeling could pose a grave danger to the inhabitants of this station, and studying it comprehensively provides us a unique opportunity to obtain information about the Founders at a time when we're at war.

"I believe that the safest course for preserving Federation lives is to remove this changeling to a secure Starfleet facility for further study, without interference from Chief Odo."

She sat back. "All right. And Odo. What would be your ideal outcome in this situation?"

"A preliminary injunction against In— the changeling being removed from Deep Space Nine or from my care," he said promptly, "due to the risk of irreparable harm to it from being tortured."

"I see." She kept her fingers steepled, and made a quiet humming noise in her throat.

There was a long pause while they both watched her, waiting for judgment.

"Odo," she said, and tapped the tablet he'd handed her, now lying on the table where she left it. "Do you believe this list is exhaustive?"

Odo's eyes darted to the tablet. "Dr. Mora told me the list of treatments was everything they had done to me to elicit a visible reaction. It might not be everything."

She nodded. "Very well." Then she turned to Sisko, and said formally "Captain Sisko, I understand your concerns about losing the opportunity to study this changeling, and the potential danger of releasing it without oversight. And Chief Odo, I understand your concerns about potential harm to the changeling, particularly if it is in fact an immature specimen.

"Therefore," she continued, "Captain Sisko, you may continue with your plan to transport the changeling to a Starfleet facility. _However."_ She held up a finger as Odo opened his mouth as if to object. "In order for this to occur, Dr. Mora will be required to go with the changeling, and bring this list compiled by Chief Odo." She tapped the tablet. "Any action that Odo believes to be painful to the changeling will be _absolutely prohibited._ This is assuming that Dr. Mora is willing to go to the Starfleet facility; if he is not, we may revisit how to approach this issue. Do you understand?"

Captain Sisko nodded deferentially, deliberately looking at the tribune next to him and not Odo across the table. "Will you ask for any additional oversight, Tribune?"

She frowned. "I'll see if there's anyone on the station I believe would be fit for it. Now, in the meantime. Just as a general reminder, Captain, any sort of retaliation related to this type of complaint is prohibited under Federation law. The penalties are severe, almost as severe as those for a violation of the Ninth Guarantee itself. Do I make myself clear?"

Sisko's eyes flashed but he said "Of course, Tribune," very politely.

"Good. Any questions?"

"Tribune," said Odo tentatively. "Would it be possible for me to go with the changeling as additional oversight? It could be useful, if, say, they wanted to try a novel… treatment."

She was shaking her head before he could finish speaking. "No, Odo." Her voice was sympathetic but firm. "You clearly hold some affection for this being. That's very important, since it is what caused you to come forward about this. And we deeply appreciate it.

"But this changeling could be a danger to the Federation. It's not certain yet, but it could be. We should treat it with the basic decency afforded any sentient being, but we may not be able to treat it how a parent would want their child to be treated."

Odo compressed his lips at this and gave a single nod.

"And if they were to try a novel treatment," she pointed out, "you would have no way of knowing its effect, any more than Dr. Mora would."

The ex-shapeshifter grew red, emitting only a small "Hmph."

"Any further questions?"

"One more, Tribune. I'm open to additional oversight to ensure that your decision is followed. What about Chief Odo?"

"What about him?"

Sisko gritted his teeth. Just had to do all the work himself, didn't he. "I would like to request that he be confined to quarters until the changeling is off the station. Normally I would do this myself, but I want to avoid the appearance of _retaliation._ " He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice on the last word.

Her eyes met his steadily. "Would that harm Odo's position as chief security officer here?"

He closed his mouth firmly and gestured across the table, giving Odo a questioning look.

The ex-shapeshifter said, apparently with difficulty, "Not— permanently." Honest to a fault, Sisko thought with grudging respect.

"Very well. Request granted."

There was a silence.

The tribune stood up. "Well, then. The decision is made. I wish you the best. Thank you both for your cooperation."

They both murmured quiet, insincere thanks and made their way out of the room, avoiding eye contact.


	11. In Which Odo Tries Persuasion

Odo took a deep breath. He would never have expected to be doing this, but he didn’t have a choice now.

“Computer, call Dr. Mora in his quarters.”

He sat apprehensively while the comconsole chirped, waiting for Mora to come in, and then his father’s face appeared on the screen.

The doctor wore a wistful smile, which disappeared when he saw Odo’s grim expression. “It’s good to hear from you, Odo. I heard what happened. Are you doing all right?”

He controlled his face carefully into a more pleasant neutrality, a task that had become more difficult of late, with his overwhelming solid emotions. “As well as can be expected. And yourself?”

“Fine. Just doing a bit of packing.” Mora’s eyes held a gentle sympathy that only made it harder for Odo to tamp down his irritation. “Do you have friends to visit you in your quarters until … we’ve left?”

He compressed his lips. “Yes,” he said briefly, not considering overmuch whether it was true before saying it. “But that’s not why I called you. You said you’re packing. So you’ve decided to go?”

“Why… yes,” the doctor said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a vital research opportunity.”

Odo inhaled. “I’d like to ask you, as a personal favor…” He struggled for a moment, then forced himself to say it as he’d planned. “Please … please don’t go. For me, and more importantly, for Inell.”

Mora’s expression softened as he spoke, but the doctor didn’t answer right away. He gazed at Odo, looking simultaneously bemused, gentle, and sad. And with a touch of superiority, as always.

“Odo,” he said at last, quietly. “You mean you don’t trust me to take care of Inell?”

Odo’s skin crawled at the oozing sympathy of his adoptive father’s expression. He realized, then, the amount of misery that Mora meant to put him through. To make him grovel and beg like a child.

“I don’t trust Starfleet,” he said, a flat tone the best he could manage. “They won’t be satisfied with what I left on the list. They’ll force you to do more invasive, novel treatments, ones that I had no opportunity to mention.”

“You want to be involved,” Mora said, kindly. “I understand. Inell is very important to you.”

Odo could only nod, tightly. He knew now it wasn’t going to work.

“But this is best for everyone,” the doctor continued. “Starfleet will make sure that it’s safe for us to have Inell, and I will watch over it for you. I promise.”

Odo grimaced, looking to the side of the comconsole. He saw his playground of metal bars and spheres. That was yet another thing he wanted to show Inell: the experience of being a copper sphere, holding that mental conductivity and clarity, then fluidly shifting to other shapes, curling around the shape you had previously been. And it was a thing that the changeling child would never see, never experience, unless he could convince Dr. Mora to change the ending of this conversation. It would be locked in a Federation prison, or some “humane institution” perhaps, for its entire life, unless he could keep it here with him. He steeled himself once more.

“If you tell Starfleet you won’t go,” he said stiffly, “you could stay here on the station. We could continue the research. Together.” He tried to emphasize that last word, instead of muttering it resentfully, but wasn’t sure he quite succeeded.

Mora sat back slightly. “Odo,” he said, sounding a bit emotional. “That means a lot to me. It really does.”

For one glorious moment, his hopes rose up like a balloon in his chest, before Mora punctured it.

“But I can’t. This research needs to happen, and I can’t risk getting on bad terms with Starfleet. We Bajorans aren’t in such a stable position, you know. There’s really not much else I can do.”

Odo felt something fold up quietly inside him at these words.

“I see,” he said tonelessly, and gave up his pretense. “Computer, end transmission.”

Dr. Mora’s face showed a brief flash of surprise at this rudeness before being replaced with an empty black screen.


	12. In Which Kira and Odo Make A Choice

It took Kira a couple hours to get away from her work on the station. The recently-replaced Vedek had caused quite a bit of turmoil in Bajor's politics, and she was taking a lot of meetings to try to make sure she understood whose positions had changed and why. Finally she managed to drag herself to Odo's quarters, not having had any opportunity to shower or change. She couldn't let anything delay her; Odo was a friend, and this was a real blow.

When she reached his door, there was an officer in a yellow Security uniform standing outside it. She pulled up short.

"Major," said the officer, inclining her head respectfully.

"Private. Who told you to guard the security chief's door?" Kira demanded.

"Captain Sisko, sir."

Her lips thinned, but there was nothing she could do about that right now. She gave a brusque nod and reached around the officer to push the entry button, then slipped past her inside.

The scene that greeted her was strange, to say the least.

Her eyes passed briefly over the tangled playground of metals in copper and silver that took up half the room, then settled on the one ordinary piece of furniture in the room, Odo's plain twin bed, placed haphazardly between the opposite wall and a stainless steel sphere the size of a soccer ball. He was sitting up against the wall, wearing a surprised guilty expression and a -- tuxedo? Yes, that was a bow tie, and tails sticking out from his clumsy seat on the bed. There was a glass in his hand, and precariously balanced on the bed beside him was --

"Is that a bottle of Jack Daniel's?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

He cleared his throat. "I--" As he started to rise, the bottle of whiskey predictably lost its balance, loosing the amber-colored liquid all over the white sheets. "Ah!" Odo exclaimed, clearly mortified. "I-- Give me just one moment, Major, I'm sorry--"

In a couple steps, she was next to him, and grabbed the bottle before any of the whiskey could make it to the floor, which would be much harder to clean. Together, they wadded up the sheets and stuffed them and the remaining whiskey into the replicator. Odo didn't replicate another bottle, but Kira noticed that he didn't put away his still-full glass, either, but instead balanced it carefully on the bed frame.

Finally, they arranged themselves; Kira sat on the bed, carefully avoiding the brown stain, and Odo found a metal bar to lean on.

"Sorry if I interrupted you," she said after a moment.

He shook his head vigorously. "Not at all. It's good to see you."

"I heard they put you on leave, but not that Sisko confined you to quarters. What _happened_?" Her voice rose slightly. "Did you know they have a _guard_ on your door?"

Odo shrugged, inexplicably. "No, but it doesn't surprise me."

Her mouth dropped open.

"I thought a lot about what you said," he continued. "You were right. It wasn't right, what they were asking me to do. So I refused."

"And Sisko confined you to quarters for--"

"No, no. He confined me to quarters because after I refused, he would have had Dr. Mora continue without me. And then I called a Starfleet Tribune to the station to get an injunction against him." Odo finally looked up, having stared at the floor for most of this speech, and a small smile was spreading over his face.

Kira felt her heart tighten. Of _course_ Odo would call a Tribune, that would be the first thing he would do! For justice. But now… He hadn't even _thought_ of any other way.

She grinned back at him, thogh, involuntarily responding to his foolish, surprised pride in himself. "Of course you did."

He sighed, sobering. "And the Tribune didn't entirely agree with me."

"But why are you confined to quarters? Isn't that … I don't know… a little improper, after a Tribune?"

"He cleared it with her ahead of time," Odo said bitterly. "To make sure it wouldn't qualify as retaliation. It's just until they get Inell off the station."

" _Oh,_ " she said. "Off the station."

He nodded. "They're taking it to a Starfleet facility. And Dr. Mora is going. They have an injunction on any of the procedures I specifically mentioned, but no protection that I know of against _novel treatments._ " He pronounced the final words with a disgusted emphasis.

"Oh, Odo," she said.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

Odo leaned over and reached for the glass of Jack Daniel's on the bed frame, and managed to bring it to his mouth and take a sip without incident.

"So you're drinking Old Earth alcohol now," Kira said with forced lightness. "Is the tuxedo just to get in the right mood?"

Amazingly, Odo flushed. It was peculiar seeing color spread over his face, when it had been incapable of this in the past. "I… suppose you could say that," he said stiffly. He reached up to adjust his bowtie, apparently unconsciously. "There's … a holo-suite program I've been using lately, which introduced me to both. I'd exhausted all my options, and I don't have anything better to do, so I thought I'd…" He spread his arms.

"Pretend you're in the holo-suite, since you can't actually go there," she summarized.

He looked like he wanted to be offended, then just chuckled.

She smiled, then it faded. Time was short. "Odo, how long is Inell going to be on the station?"

"Dr. Mora and Inell are leaving with a Starfleet escort the day after tomorrow. So I have until then to sit here and drink whiskey," he said, not without some bitterness.

"Have you thought about what… your other options might be?" She lowered her voice involuntarily, though there was no way the security officer outside the door could hear anything.

Odo furrowed his brow, then levered himself out of his perch on a copper bar and set his glass down on the floor.

He took a seat on the bed at the opposite end, carefully on the other side of the whiskey spill from her.

"I asked Dr. Mora not to go along with it," he said, looking away. "I pleaded with him. Told him we could do it together if he stayed on the station; the Tribune would have let Inell stay." His voice was very quiet.

"But he said no," Kira finished.

Odo nodded, still looking away.

"That _rat_ ," she said with venom. "But that's not what I meant."

He glanced at her, puzzlement written on his face.

"You could take Inell and go," she said, forcing the words out.

"Go…" he said slowly. "What do you mean? Where?"

"Anywhere," she said. "The Gamma Quadrant. Away from the Federation. As far as you need to go."

Odo stared at her. "What?"

This was it. He hadn't thought of it, but Kira knew that Odo loved Inell. Once he realized this was the only way to keep it safe, he would have to leave. And she would never see either of them again.

She didn't want to say it.

She said it anyway.

"You could go on the run. Get help from the Dominion, if you need to; I'm sure they would give you a ship or contacts or whatever you need. Just to keep Inell safe."

He was still staring at her. It hadn't percolated yet. "I can't do that."

"Yes, you can. There's a small freighter in dock," she said. "It can't be worth much; I know you don't use your salary. You could leave the owners some cash, if you feel bad about it. Take it and get into Dominion space before anyone notices you're gone."

"But--"

"I can get you into the lab for a few minutes," she rushed onward. "No one is expecting anything, so it shouldn't be too hard to--"

"Nerys!"

"Don't tell me it can't be done, Odo. I am literally a galactic expert on covert operations, and I'm telling you it can be."

"Nerys," he said again. "You… want me to leave?"

She stopped talking and looked at him. His hands were folded in his lap, and he was hunched slightly, facing away from her.

"No," she said. "I don't. But you need to leave."

She was still looking at him, and so she saw his body shake. The edge of his cheek suddenly glistened with tears. _Odo can cry now?_ she realized, but before she quite knew what she was doing she'd shifted over next to him, right on top of the stain -- she could always replicate a new uniform -- and placed her hand on his shoulder, lightly, restraining herself.

"Odo, I'm… I'm sorry," she tried.

He shook his head, shoulders still trembling. After a moment he said, so quietly she could hardly hear, "I can't."

She didn't know what to say to that. Everything was so off balance, so wrong -- Odo needing comfort, instead of the reverse; his tears, his physical discomfort. And she couldn't quite tell what was wrong, so she let the silence stretch out, waiting for a cue from him.

He cleared his throat. "I can't leave the station, and everyone here. Inell is important, but I've already done enough to jeopardize my position here."

Odo rubbed his face with one hand; she let her hand fall away from his shoulder and shifted her seat slightly away, conscious of their awkward closeness. She didn't want to impose too much on his personal space.

"I doubt very much that I'll be staying here as security chief for long," he continued, "after what happened with Captain Sisko."

Her face fell. Did he really think the captain would be that unreasonable? But she couldn't refute it.

"But then," she said slowly, "what do you have to lose?"

"At least I could stay on Bajor," he said. "Or in the Federation, somewhere; I'm a citizen, so I could go almost anywhere. Not run forever." He gave a feeble smile. "I care about you solids, you know."

Her heart clenched looking at him. "I don't want to lose you, Odo," she began, and the "but" died away on her lips.

"I don't want to lose you, either," he said softly.

Somehow he had shifted closer to her. She felt her heart beating faster, but tried to still it; she and Odo had always been close, but she knew how he felt about physical contact.

How he had felt about it, that is. It occurred to her suddenly that maybe — just maybe —

But she couldn't move closer. He knew how she felt.

Slowly, tentatively, he lifted his hand and moved it to cover hers, where it lay in her lap. When he touched her, she felt him shaking.

"Are you all right?" she asked, as gently as she possibly could.

He inhaled sharply, eyes closed, and started to pull his hand away. She wrapped her hand around his, not so tightly that he couldn't pull away if he wanted to. He didn't.

His eyes opened, and his pupils were shockingly dilated. "I don't know how you solids do it," he said breathily.

"Do what?"

"Deal with all this…" he gestured with his free hand. "Emotion. All the time. It's overwhelming. I can't control it."

A smile spread over her face, but she didn't move any further, just watching his eyes track her face. "Sometimes we don't control it."

He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, then his breathing changed. His lips twitched seemingly uncontrollably. "Is that-- Do you mean that you-- I--" He took a ragged breath. "Nerys, do you still--"

She reached over and pulled his face forward. It was a bit premature, but she was certain enough.

His lips trembled where they met hers. She pressed softly, then let go and pulled away to look at his expression. His eyes were huge in her field of view, pupils wide, hard to tell apart from his brown irises in the dim evening light of his quarters. His mouth gaped open slightly. Surprised. She hoped it was a good surprise.

"Was that all right?" she asked.

Odo smiled, tentatively, then it faded. “Nerys… I don’t…” He struggled for words for a moment.

She pulled back slightly, putting a little more distance between them, still holding his hand. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“No, no. No. That’s not what I meant. I just…” he struggled. “I don’t know how any of this is done.”

Kira let herself smile, at last, widely. “That’s all right. We all have to start somewhere.”

He returned the smile, squeezing her hand.

Then he leaned forward again, slowly. His eyes were wide, surprised almost, as if he were being pulled by some force he couldn’t control.

* * *

Some time later, they lay tangled together on the bed, catching their breath.

“How are you feeling?” Nerys asked out of the comfortable silence.

“Strange,” he answered. “Not in a bad way, of course,” he added hurriedly. “It was… Nerys, I don’t have the words to tell you how…”

“It’s all right,” she said, smiling.

“It’s just odd,” he said. “I never understood what people got out of it. It seemed so … Not even bad, but just, uninteresting. Pointless.”

“Mm.”

“But it wasn’t like that at all. It was like…” he struggled for words. “I couldn’t even think of anything else. Like being with you was the only thing in the world.”

A languorous pleasure spread through her, to complement the floating sense of peace she already felt. “It’s like that for some people,” was all she said, still smiling.

“I’ve never felt that way before about anything,” he said. “Everything always seems so… I never quite understood how you solids were so focused, or so enthusiastic, or … It’s like zooming in on a comm screen. I don’t even know how to describe the difference. Do you know what I mean, Nerys?”

She raised her head up to look directly at him. “To tell you the truth… I think I’m zoomed in like that a lot of the time.”

He chuckled. “I thought you might say that.”

And then her heart sank as she realized that they hadn’t finished their earlier conversation.

“And… I was just now, which is why I let you distract me like that,” she admitted. “Odo. There’s not much time.”

“Nerys, I’ve made my choice.” Odo looked away. “I won’t leave you.”

She swallowed. “There’s another option.”

His eyes met hers, confused.

“You could contact the Dominion,” she said softly. “Get their help to get Inell out of Starfleet hands. It could be with your people. The way you always wanted to be. Forever.”

* * *

The bottom dropped out of Odo’s stomach when she said it.

She was right.

The whiskey, the tuxedo, the sex — he’d been comforting himself. And he hadn’t realized how comfortable he’d become with the certainty of failure, until it was pulled out from under him to reveal the trapdoor beneath. It was a choice he’d thought he could avoid.

Betray his friends and colleagues on the station. Aid the enemy in time of war.

Or let an innocent shifter child be taken and experimented on, to live in an institution for the rest of its life. _His_ child.

He swallowed. It wasn’t as though it would actually hurt the war effort, to hand Inell to the Dominion. A single shifter child wouldn’t make much difference to the war itself. He didn’t have to tell them anything about the station’s defenses; they already knew enough to get a spy in, and had before. He wouldn’t be _hurting_ anyone he cared about.

(Probably. He thought. If the operation went smoothly.)

And he knew what Federation prisons were like. Comfortable. He’d be able to have visitors… his mind went back to Nerys, lying next to him. It wouldn’t be a total loss. He wouldn’t be on the run, forever, endlessly racing through the blackness of space with only one other -- only one shapeshifter for company…

He’d made his choice then, knowing that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t live like that; he would break. But maybe life in a Federation prison wouldn’t be so bad, if he knew that Inell was out of harm’s way. Knowing that he had a chance, even a small chance, of keeping it safe — his chest tightened. It was like a black fog had lifted overhead, a fog he’d started to even forget was there, because of its inevitability.

And knowing he had a chance now, and that he wouldn’t have to lose _everything_ — only most things — something shifted inside him.

He rolled halfway out of bed and sat up. Nerys did the same.

* * *

The bottom dropped out of her stomach when she saw the look on his face shift from surprise, to fear, then deep thought, and then finally: resolution.

She’d still mostly expected it not to work. That he would say no, he still couldn’t take on that burden; that it would have never quite left him, the cloud of having let Inell go; but that life would go on, mostly as it always had, just a little bit more in shadow.

But she knew what she would have done, in his place.

“Let me help,” she said. “You can’t move around the ship. I can make sure they know where to go, make it fast, in and out—”

He was shaking his head. “No, Nerys. I…” his voice caught. “I want you to be able to come visit me, when I’m in prison. Not to get caught yourself.”

“It’ll be safer if I help you,” she insisted.

“It’ll be safer if you don’t.” He started pulling on his normal uniform, leaving the tuxedo where it is, in a pile on the floor.

As she pulled on her own jumpsuit, she continued, “Look, just tell me when you’ve made contact. I’m scheduled for a blood test this evening. I’ll stay in my quarters. I don’t have to be involved at all; they can look like me. I don’t care. It’ll get them through the ship without having to hurt anyone. You can just say you knew when my blood test was going to be.”

He took her hand between his and gripped it tightly. “I’ll think about it.”

His eyes were still gazing off into the distance; thinking about his next move. Then they snapped to hers.

“Nerys. Thank you.”

“What, you’re thanking me and you won’t even let me do anything?” she says, keeping her voice light.

“You know what I mean. For… reminding me that I could do the right thing.”

A bittersweet smile spread across her face. _That’s him, all right._ “You’re welcome, Odo,” she said softly. “Anytime.”

She stood up, still holding his hands, eyes never leaving his. “I’d better go. You’ve got a lot to do. You know how to reach me.”

He nodded.

She could feel his eyes on her back all the way until the automatic door hissed shut behind her.


	13. In Which Help Is Solicited

Despite the fact that his twin bed was out in the main room, Odo’s quarters actually did have a smaller, private bedroom attached. At first, after he changed, it simply hadn’t occurred to him to use it. After that, it just felt strange to go in there, when he’d spent so long only ever sleeping, eating, or living in the main room.

Now, though, he was grateful to have another closed door between himself and the security officers out in the hallway.

Odo braced himself as the image of Weyoun appeared on his screen.

The sycophantic Vorta plastered a saccharine smile across his face as soon as he saw who he was speaking to. “Founder! What a privilege to speak with you. Please excuse my appearance, I wasn’t expecting _you_ when I saw an encrypted transmission come in. How may I serve you?”

Subtle. What the Vorta meant, of course, was that he knew Odo was up to something. But Odo felt a kind of relief at the deferential treatment; apparently Weyoun had decided that he was still enough of a Founder to be polite to, even after he had been changed.

“I need to talk to the Founder who travels with you,” Odo said, with no preamble.

“Of course. I will ask if she is available to speak with you.” Weyoun’s voice was totally humble and gracious, with no hint of the condescension implied by his words.

Odo crossed his arms and waited. The screen went dark.

After a few moments, the female changeling appeared in the viewport.

“Odo,” she said. “How is life as a solid?”

“Fine,” he said. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A favor?”

“It’s about another changeling,” he said. “A child.”

“A… _child_?” she said gingerly, as if holding up the word to inspect it for fleas. “That’s a word solids use. You mean a young one.”

“Whatever you want to call it,” he said, “it’s being held by Starfleet researchers on Deep Space Nine. They’re leaving tomorrow evening for a more secure facility, far from here. I need your help to free it before that happens.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms, considering. “And just why does this young one interest _you_ so much, Odo? You, who were the first changeling in history to kill another of your kind? You would tell us, _the Dominion_ , to rescue a young changeling from your beloved Starfleet? Wouldn’t you rather raise it yourself? Teach it the ways of the solids?”

He was caught off guard by the real bitterness in her voice. “No, they…” He paused. But there was no way around telling her. “They were mistreating it. It’s not safe here.”

She spread her hands. “The solids were mistreating a young changeling. You don’t say. You know, I think this was predictable. Solids often do this sort of thing. In fact, I think I know another young changeling to whom the _same exact thing_ happened. Funny, how trusting solids seems to _always_ have the same … exact … results.”

Odo sat stiffly, silently. Waiting.

Finally she said, “And why should I trust _you_ , Odo? Solid that you are.”

Words stuck in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. “I… don’t know,” he said after a moment. “But there is a young changeling on this station who needs your help. I thought that would matter to you. I didn’t think there would be anything else to say.”

“I see.” Her eyes narrowed. “And even if there is a young changeling there, how would I know this isn’t a Federation trap?”

He took a deep breath. He hadn’t wanted to do this -- to show her how he felt. It had been too painful, after he changed, to even think of what he’d lost. But he had to now. “I’ve melded with you before,” Odo said. “Don’t you know when I’m telling the truth?”

He held her eyes for several moments, hoping his face would reveal more than he could say with words.

She tapped a finger against some unseen surface, probably the ledge in front of her viewscreen.

“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wait. One more thing.”

She stared at him.

“Don’t… hurt anyone on the station. I know they’re just solids to you, but they matter to me. I know you know that.” His voice was soft. “Please.”

For just a moment, her eyes softened too, and Odo knew she was remembering their bond.

But her voice, clipped and precise, said “Perhaps. I’ll see what I can do.”

He bowed his head.

When he lifted it again, the viewscreen was black.

* * *

It was almost the end of Kira’s shift that night when it happened.

“Chief O’Brien to Major Kira,” crackled the chief’s voice out of her communicator.

“Yes, Chief,” she said, tapping the device pinned to her chest to turn on its microphone.

“Major, we’re seeing some strange readings coming out of Cargo Bay 4. Can you take a security team to investigate?”

Her pulse quickened as soon as he said ‘strange readings’. She ducked into the hallway, leaving the team of ensigns she was supervising to their tasks. “What kind of readings, Chief?”

“An unexplained neutrino burst, which could mean there’s something odd about the cargo, or some kind of intrusion. I’ve still got to replace some air filters down here, and it’s probably nothing, but I want to make sure someone checks it out.”

She glanced around at the empty hallway. “My team’s pretty busy up here, but I have a few minutes to spare. Think it’ll be all right if I go check it out on my own?”

There was a pause that, though it was probably a completely normal amount of time, felt a million years long to Kira. “Sure, go ahead. But be ready for trouble.”

“On it.” She tapped her chest again, then ducked back into the control room. “Ensign Carter, I have an errand to run. Can you keep things under control here for me until the end of shift in a few minutes?”

* * *

Kira walked at her usual brisk pace through the hallways, waiting to find a moment to herself. She got her moment in the turbolift.

“Major Kira to Security Chief Odo,” she said quietly into her communicator. “It’s here, isn’t it? Engineering detected something in Cargo Bay 4.”

It took too long for the communicator to respond. “Yes,” said Odo’s voice, also quiet.

“I’m going to check it out.”

“Wait, but—”

“Chief O’Brien asked me to.”

There was a brief silence before he answered. “Ah.”

“Can you meet me there?”

“Nerys, I can’t leave my quarters.”

“Oh, come on. You’re going to prison anyway, you might as well help me out.”

She heard a weak chuckle come out of her communicator. “Fine. Cargo Bay 4, you said?”

“That’s right. I’ll see you there.” She tapped off her communicator again, then told the turbolift what level to take her to.

* * *

Her phaser was out when she opened the door to the cargo bay, but as she expected, the bay was empty, save for some sealed storage bins stacked in haphazard rows.

She let the doors close behind her, and tapped a few buttons on the console to lock them from the inside. Then she walked the perimeter, holding her weapon out gingerly in front of her.

“Listen,” she spoke into the air, “I know why you’re here. I’m not going to stop you. I can tell you where the shapeshifter is being held.”

The air didn’t respond for long moments, as she continued her circuit of the cargo bay, peering between barrels and bins.

She had seen it a hundred times before, when Odo did it, but it still sent a shiver down her spine to see the shapeshifter materialize in front of her out of a harmless-looking storage bin.

It was her — the one who’d been to the station before. The female changeling. And she appeared uncomfortably close to Kira’s face.

“You,” she said. “Major Kira, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Kira answered, grip tightening on her phaser.

“Did Odo tell you about this?” The changeling’s face was tense. Kira couldn’t tell if she was ready to strike, or ready to run.

“Actually, it was my idea,” she replied.

“ _What?_ ” she yelped. Her hand snaked out, faster than Kira could react, and knocked her phaser aside.

The major abruptly realized that she was alone, with no backup, and had no chance of beating a shapeshifter in hand-to-hand combat. She raised her hands as the changeling advanced on her. “Wait—”

“Odo _told_ me this was all for the young one. He _begged_ me to spare the solids. And now I found out that it’s all _your_ idea, that this is some _Federation plot—_ ”

She grabbed Kira’s shoulder and held her in place, and was practically spitting on her face by the time Odo’s voice interrupted her.

“Wait. It’s not what you think.”

The shapeshifter released her and spun around, searching for the source of sound. “Oh, really. And what’s this, an ambush? Just the two of you? Where are the rest of the solids you put here to trap me?” She was angry, but not yet desperate. All three of them knew that in a two-on-one fight, the female changeling would obviously win. It relaxed Kira a bit; if she wasn’t backed into a corner, perhaps they could still salvage this.

The ex-shapeshifter stepped out from the nearest stack of bins. “Listen. We don’t have much time. Major Kira wanted Inell to be safe, just like I did. She came to cover for the radiation you left here, and to try to help, even though I asked her _as a friend_ not to.” Odo glared at her. “The lab is on level seven,” he added, and went on to give a bizarre set of directions that was clearly intended for a person who could travel through arbitrary vents and maintenance tubing throughout the station. “If you don’t need anything from us, go. I’m not supposed to be here, and they’ll notice something is wrong soon.”

As he was speaking, the female changeling backed up the aisle of bins until she could see both Kira and Odo.

“Just one thing, before I go,” she said. “Why did this solid tell me that this was her idea?”

Odo sighed. “I told Major Kira about what happened with Captain Sisko and Dr. Mora. I couldn’t get Inell out of here by myself, and she suggested… calling you.”

“Inell?” She tilted her head, looking faintly puzzled, and then disgusted as she realized. “You gave it a _name._ Like the solids did with you.” She shook her head. “You really have become one of them, Odo.”

His lips tightened, but he didn’t respond.

“Captain Sisko and Dr. Mora, you say,” she continued. “And where are their quarters located?”

Odo’s eyes widened. “I— why do you ask?”

“Ah, nevermind,” she said lightly. “I can find them myself.”

Kira lunged forward at the same moment that Odo said, “Wait! Don’t—” But they were both too late. The changeling’s form swirled into a vapor that disappeared into a vent above their heads, and she was gone.

They looked at each other.

“Shit,” said Kira.

And then they started to run.


	14. In Which Kira Finds A Doctor

"The captain," Kira said in a low voice. "She'd go for him first."

Odo nodded. "I'll check his quarters first and meet you at Dr. Mora's."

"Are you sure? You'll be able to avoid attracting attention?"

He nodded again. "See you in a few minutes."

She gave half a salute as he dashed away.

She half-ran, half-walked to Dr. Mora's quarters, pausing anytime she heard footsteps to slow down and act normal and natural. Her heart was pounding. Who knew what the shapeshifter would do... She didn't _like_ what Sisko and Mora had done, certainly, but letting them get attacked by an enemy of the Federation was something else entirely. She just wished she knew anything about their psychology, how the female changeling was likely to react to what she'd been told. Odo knew the changeling better, but he seemed almost as panicked as she was. Which was not a good sign.

After her agonizing turbolift ride to the right level, she finally made it to the corridor outside Mora's quarters and had a brief whispered conversation with Odo, who appeared from behind a corner.

"No sign of any foul play near Sisko. He and Jake are in his quarters, but everything looked normal from the outside."

Kira frowned. "She went for Mora first?"

He shrugged. "Maybe she stopped to pick up Inell. That's what she's here for, after all." She detected just the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice.

"All right. Let's check on him. Try to stay out of sight for the moment." She squared her shoulders as Odo stepped to the side of the door, then knocked.

"Dr. Mora?"

There was no reply. She glanced at her watch; late, but not _that_ late. Could he just be asleep? It didn't seem likely. "Computer, locate Dr. Mora."

"Dr. Mora is in his quarters," essayed the calm computerized voice from the ceiling.

She knocked again, louder this time. "Doctor?"

Pause.

"Computer, override entry code. Authorization Kira-Beta-2-Beta."

The door hissed open and she rushed forward as she saw his prone form on the couch.

* * *

Odo felt the bottom of his stomach drop out seeing his father apparently unconscious, head lolling on the back of the couch. He followed Kira at a distance in the room, not sure if he should let himself be seen, but unable to stop himself. What if he was — He didn't let himself think it.

"Doctor, are you all right?" Kira asked.

A wave of relief came over him as Dr. Mora croaked "No." The doctor's head shifted just slightly, but his limbs didn't move, splayed out across the couch. He was still wearing his doctor's coat and uniform, but they were rumpled, as if he'd been rolling around on the ground.

"What happened?" She was picking up each of his wrists, looking him over for bruises. "Can you move? Are you hurt?"

"Not... sure," he gasped out. "Changeling... was here."

She turned to Odo. "I don't see any obvious damage. We'll have to get him to Sick Bay for internal injuries." Then back to Dr. Mora. "What did she do to you?"

"She..." he cleared his throat explosively, then his voice grew a bit stronger. He lifted his head slightly. "She changed me."

Odo couldn't help himself; he stepped forward. "Changed you? How?"

"She made me ..." he let out a weird cough, and then grimaced. "She made me one of you. Said that I should know ... what it felt like."

Odo blinked. He felt a giant fist squeezing the breath out of him. "She... she what?" She made _Dr. Mora_ a shapeshifter? After taking away Odo's ability to shift — they would give it back to _this_ —

"Just for a few minutes," the doctor explained. "She changed me back after. Or ... said she did. Not sure what it did ... to my body ... could be ... " he groaned slightly, shifting his head. "Very scientifically interesting ... you should get me to sick bay soon. In case there's still trace radiation..."

Odo felt the weight on his chest lessen slightly, then realized what this meant. "So you know what fifty millivolts is like now."

The doctor grimaced in pain. "Mm," he grunted affirmatively.

Kira looked at Odo, then back at Dr. Mora. "Did she say what she was going to do next?"

The doctor's eyes widened. "Oh. The captain..."

She swore and tapped her communicator. "Kira to sick bay. Dr. Mora is injured and needs an emergency beam-up from his quarters," then tapped it off immediately. "Odo, let's get the hell out of here, while we still have time!"


	15. In Which People Change

As they ran towards Captain Sisko's quarters, Odo felt only a slight sense of conflict in his chest about saving the captain from his fate.

There was a certain poetic justice about it, wasn't there? Making the doctor experience firsthand what he had done to Inell.

He wondered why the changeling had gone so much trouble to instill empathy in the doctor, rather than just kill him. It did seem more likely to cause real hesitation next time Starfleet encountered a baby shapeshifter, compared to the alternative. They would call Dr. Mora again, no doubt, since he was the leading expert available to them on shapeshifter biology... and Dr. Mora might feel differently about his methods, when they did.

And as for the captain... would the female changeling do the same? No such considerations applied in his case.

A small, treacherous part of him hoped that Sisko would get the same treatment as Dr. Mora. That he would come to understand what he was doing, that it would change his views on Inell, make him keep it on the station...

And another, even colder part of him, wondered if it would even change anything. If perhaps Sisko would continue on even so, holding the war effort more sacred than the Federation's Constitution. He didn't want to believe it of the captain — it chilled him even to think— but part of him did.

He wondered if the female changeling believed the same. She might not be so gentle with the captain, if so.

And despite everything, Odo was terrified of Sisko being hurt. They were friends — had worked together for years. The Federation needed him; the station needed him. And maybe, a little bit, Odo needed him around. Their relationship had been poisoned by Sisko's treatment of Inell, would never be the same. He could hardly bear the idea of speaking to him again, after this was all over. But the idea of the captain _dying_ ... was something else entirely. He'd be leaving without giving Odo another chance to tell him off about what he'd done. Odo tried to imagine how he would feel if the worst happened to Sisko, and his brain drew a blank.

And even as all these thoughts raced through his mind — the doubt, the uncertainty, the worry that the captain was too ruthless even to change his views after being tortured himself — his legs were moving, almost without his conscious attention, trying to get to the captain's quarters as fast as solidly possible.

* * *

When they arrived, there was no one in front of Sisko's door. Why would there be? The station was safe.

They heard a low cry from behind the door and Kira hit the security override without an instant's hesitation. "Captain!"

The door slid open to reveal the female changeling, who'd had a moment to prepare. She turned towards them, holding a glass cylinder in front of herself, as if to use it as a shield. It held a wobbling, jellylike mass of clear fluid.

Inell.

Odo's gaze swept the room rapidly. The door to the other room was firmly shut — locked? Jake must be in that room, thank goodness — and behind the female changeling, slightly obscured, Sisko was lying on the couch.

Was it Sisko? It took his brain a few moments to make sense of the image his eyes were sending it. The captain was — injured? Burned?

No, ... _melted_?

His arm was spread out across the couch like a ribbon of taffy, while the rest of him looked ... mostly as he normally did, an imposing, dark-skinned, barrel-chested man, dressed in a colorful nightshirt, but ... blurred, around the edges. Drooping slightly.

She had changed him.

In the instant it took Odo to determine this, Kira had raised her phaser beside him, no doubt set on the highest energy setting, the one that would kill even a shapeshifter on impact.

"Don't shoot," the female changeling said mildly, raising the glass cylinder slightly for emphasis. "You'll kill both of us."

The major held her phaser steady.

"There's no need for this," Odo said. "Just take Inell and go. You risked its life just for revenge." His voice was bitter. "I should never have trusted you."

" _You_ should never have trusted _me?_ " Her voice rose. "It was _you_ who betrayed your kind, Odo! You would have let these solids get away with no punishment? No justice?"

"You call this justice?" He clenched his fists, shifting his weight toward her. "Jumping to conclusions and going straight to making yourself judge, jury, and executioner? It's not how our people treated me, and it's not how you should treat a solid either."

"We treated you differently because you _were_ one of us," she answered, gripping Inell possessively. "But you betrayed your kind. Better that this young one should come with me, instead of staying with you, a betrayer, a traitor who would have let its tormentors escape any kind of harm. I'm surprised you even asked me for help, knowing we would teach it our true ways, instead of these foolish notions of friendship with solids."

With alarm, Odo noticed that he felt a burning sensation in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, and felt — tears, he realized. Tears. A solid phenomenon that he'd never felt before two days ago, and now he had experienced it more than once. Part of him dispassionately noted the strangeness of the still-new sensation, while the rest of him was caught up in a swirling cloud of emotion.

He opened his mouth to speak, and found the words stumbling out of this throat half-formed. "I j-just wanted ... Inell... to be... suh-safe..."

Next to him, Kira flicked her eyes over ever-so-briefly, keeping her hands trained on the threat at all times.

And that was when it happened.

The female changeling didn't notice at first, fixed as her gaze was on Odo. But Odo saw it immediately, his eyes shifting from hers to the cylinder she held.

The jellylike mass inside it was changing.

Shifting.

It took only the space of a moment for it to flow upward, ooze out of its container, and take shape as a soft ball of light.

Odo was transfixed with wonder as Inell floated towards him.

The female changeling followed Odo's gaze and started to react, reaching out, perhaps to merge with the young shapeshifter, to convince it to stop what it was doing.

But she was too late.

Before the female changeling got any further than lifting her other arm towards Inell, Kira shot her.

There was a huge crack of lightning as the charge of the phaser connected with the changeling's body, and then a sizzling sound. Odo reacted instinctively, lunging halfway across the room to grab the small ball of light and pull it towards him.

It didn't make much difference; Inell was already clear of the blast. The smell of ozone filled the room, and a susurration filled his ears as the changeling's body crumbled to dust on the floor.

His panic, fear, and anger faded into the background as he cradled the tiny creature in his arms, wondering at the feel of it. He had never actually touched Inell before; it had always been encased safely in glass, to keep it away from potential contaminants in the station's atmosphere. Now, though, ... if it could maintain its own shape, it could protect itself from the environment. Enough, anyway. Odo felt a pang of concern, but decided to ignore that for now.

Inell hardly felt like anything. His fingers brushed it, passing through the edges of the soft ball; it was like a cool breeze on his fingertips. If he kept pushing towards the center of the ball, his fingers stopped passing through it, and pushed it gently; it was almost like a small, glowing balloon. He had no idea how it had even thought to make this shape, but he was glad that it did.

Finally, he looked up. He wanted to put off dealing with the rest of this scene, to stare at Inell and forget that any of this had happened, but he knew there wasn't a choice.

Kira was kneeling beside the couch. "Captain," she said softly. "Benjamin. Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

Sisko didn't speak, but his eyes opened, fixed on her. He opened his mouth and let out a croak, then closed it again.

She stared at the strange shape of his arm, clearly at a loss.

Odo approached slowly, carefully guiding Inell through the air between his arms and his body as he walked. He wanted to keep it with him — protected.

"Captain," he said.

Sisko's eyes snapped to his. The anger in them was so palpable that Odo almost recoiled.

But he didn't. "Listen," he said. "Let me talk you through this. Concentrate on the sensation in your arm. Now see if you can introduce a tension, to pull it into a shortened shape..."

As the ex-shapeshifter talked, coaching him through the process of re-forming his body into its ordinary human structure, the anger in the captain's eyes gave way to an intense focus.

Soon, his arm was pulling together, reforming into its prior shape; the rest of him firmed up around the edges, yielding a mostly normal, albeit very tired-looking Benjamin Sisko.

He rolled his head from side to side, then sat up straight.

"Captain, we should get you to the infirmary," Kira said, looking slightly alarmed.

Sisko turned a baleful eye on Odo, sending a thrill of fear through the ex-shapeshifter. Would the captain order him back to his quarters? Tell Kira to take Inell back to the lab?

But Sisko simply replied, "Yes. We should."


	16. In Which Doctors Are Flummoxed

Dr. Julian Bashir was having a perfectly nice, quiet evening studying some genome sequences at a viewscreen, when a voice came out of the overhead speakers in his lab. "Kira to sick bay. Dr. Mora is injured and needs an emergency beam-up from his quarters."

It was late, and he was starting to get tired. Things like these had been happening more often since the war started. Injured Starfleet officers came in at the last minute to get rare treatments that they couldn't get on their ships; accidents happened all over the station, at all hours of the day and night. In fact, he wasn't even on duty. The night shift would take care of this, if he left. These were all very good reasons to ignore it and let the transporter and medical personnel in the main treatment rooms handle it.

But leaving never actually crossed his mind. Something was obviously different this time.

For one thing, Kira had called it in. She wasn't on night shift either; what was she doing up so late? And in Dr. Mora's quarters? For that matter, what could Dr. Mora have been doing to get himself hurt at this hour? He didn't exactly seem like the accident-prone type. And why had Kira called in an emergency beam-up without coming to sickbay herself?

Julian got up immediately to help.

* * *

His feeling that something interesting was going on was vindicated almost immediately, when Dr. Mora appeared on the examining table and gasped out his fantastic story.

Incredulous, Julian scanned him and found that Mora was physically fine, if exhausted and disoriented. The patient said that his muscles felt weak, as if they had fallen into severe disuse, although he had had a full day of normal activity before tonight. Julian put him through a series of orientation exercises — asking him his name, the name of the Kai of Bajor, what year it was — and then some simple physical therapy exercises: stretching different muscles, lifting his arms and legs, and so on. Mora was able to do all of it, but it seemed to take him more concentration than it should, as if his synaptic connections... were all still there, but just _slightly_ weakened. The scanner readings were normal — perfectly Bajoran — but his biological signature was fainter than it should have been, just a hair outside the normal range.

Julian had seen something like this before. In one patient exactly.

Odo, after his transformation.

Julian passed the patient off to the nearest ensign, prescribing only rest. He knew from Dr. Mora's tale that the most troubling part of all this was yet to come.

Later, he would find out that the trouble far exceeded what he was imagining now.

* * *

Sure enough, Captain Sisko arrived only minutes later, with an entourage of Security Chief Odo, Major Kira, and about five junior security officers. And that was when things started to get _really_ interesting.

Julian saw that the captain was staggering, supported by a junior officer, and started to point his scanner in his direction. Instantly Major Kira stepped in front of him and said, "Wait. Before you scan him, let me explain."

A thrill of fear went through the doctor. But he straightened up and said "Explain what?"

Another junior officer quietly stepped behind the group and sealed the door to the infirmary. Julian was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"You performed Captain Sisko's most recent blood test, didn't you?"

"That's correct," he said with a slow, tense nod. "Two days ago."

"You exchanged a piece of secure information with him at that time that he could use temporarily to prove he is who he says he is, according to standard procedure. Correct?"

"Yes." Oh, no. This was not going anywhere good.

She stepped aside. "Captain?"

Sisko straightened up and waved off the lieutenant holding his arm, looking a tad unsteady still. He directed his gaze straight into Julian's eyes. "Dr. Bashir, I think you'll find my readings are... unusual. You're going to have some questions for me when you take them. You can challenge me on anything you believe is necessary. As a matter of fact, I'd be disappointed as your CO if you didn't. But, before you do that..." His dark eyes softened just slightly. "Julian, I want you to know that it's still me in here. It is."

The captain's vulnerability unsettled Julian far more than his vehemence ever had. This was way, way, out of his comfort zone. What could he possibly say to that? He managed a "yes, sir," and brought the tricorder to bear.

And then he learned why the captain had felt it necessary to give that little speech.

* * *

What followed was grueling, but necessary.

Julian didn't know what exactly a shapeshifter who had taken the captain's place could be expected to know, so he wasn't sure exactly what questions to ask. He settled on asking as many as possible.

Security codes first, of course; passwords and verifications both recent and historical. He enlisted the help of the station's computer to verify those. It wasn't a complete guarantee, of course, since the computer could have been compromised... at least, that's what an outside observer would think. Julian had an unusual head for numbers, or that was what he told people in public. In reality, he had a superhuman ability, obtained through illegal genetic engineering treatments he'd received as a child. He verified several of the codes in his head, using the same cryptographic algorithms that the station's computer should be using. All the codes he checked were valid. Nothing, of course, could be a _complete_ guarantee — who knew what a shapeshifter could pull out of a person? — but that much, at least, was a comfort.

He asked him about personal stories. Things that had happened that very few other people knew. Sisko answered all of them correctly and with dignity.

And as he asked questions, Dr. Bashir worked. He ran increasingly detailed diagnostic tests on the captain, all of which pointed in the same direction: Captain Sisko was not a human being, on a biological or molecular level. He was a shapeshifter.

Julian knew that he should maintain some distance in case the worst had happened, but as Sisko continued to answer his questions correctly, he was more and more reassured despite himself. His fear that his commanding officer had been replaced by an impostor was gradually fading out in favor of intense curiosity.

"How did this happen?" he demanded, turning to Odo.

"As I said, he was turned by—"

"No, that's not what I mean. You told me what happened. I mean, what _happened?_ " He raked a hand through his hair. "Shapeshifters can just... _do_ this? Anytime?"

His stomach sank as the implications of this started to sink in. "They could make anyone look like an impostor. For that matter — if they can turn each other into humans, they can pass blood tests."

An ominous silence fell over the room.

"I don't... _think_ they can do it anytime," Odo said slowly. "I've never heard of a Founder doing it before. All the same—"

"We'll report it to Starfleet Security as soon as we're done here," Sisko interrupted. "Dr. Bashir. What's your assessment of my condition?"

Julian shook his head in disbelief. "You're a perfectly healthy shapeshifter, sir."


	17. In Which Mora Has A Realization

While the captain and Dr. Bashir were conferring, Odo had his attention pulled away by another matter.

"Odo," Dr. Mora called softly from the bed on the other side of the room.

Reluctantly, he went to Mora's bedside.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Odo said.

"I'm glad. That was... a harrowing experience."

He wasn't sure what to say, so he stayed silent.

"Odo, I think I've... learned something from all this."

He couldn't help it; his eyebrows lifted in surprise and skepticism. Had Mora actually gained from this experience? Some kind of empathy for people different from himself?

"I know, I know, I should have realized this before, but... Of course your affection for your people is the most important thing in your life." Dr. Mora's lips twisted in a bittersweet smile.

The little thrill of hope that he'd experienced died. Odo kept his face still; he was back in familiar territory now.

"Wherever you end up after all this... I hope they understand that that's all you really wanted. The best for your people. We have to do what's best for the Federation, of course, but I get it, Odo. It's admirable."

Odo's blood ran cold at _"wherever you end up after all this."_

"I see now that you'd give up everything else for your people. Even your place here, or the Federation's chances in this war. And you know what I've realized? I'll care about you no matter what. Even if Captain Sisko has to—"

Odo couldn't listen any more. He turned and walked away, doing his best to block out the rest of Mora's sentence.

As he blindly paced across the room, he heard the voice he least wanted to hear. Sisko.

"Odo. You'll stay in the brig tonight. I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."


	18. In Which Justice Is Served

Odo didn't sleep much at all that night.

Yet he was strangely calm. He knew that whatever happened next, there was nothing he could do to influence it one way or the other — he'd already done everything in his power. And he had gotten what mattered to him most: Inell.

The captain had allowed him to take the young shapeshifter with him to his cell, only telling the security officers with him to keep it under close watch, and to make sure the two of them were placed in the one shifter-proof cell in the station's jail.

He didn't know how long he would be able to stay with Inell. Perhaps it would be shipped off to the Federation research facility after all. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to be afraid anymore; he was simply too wrung out.

So he lay awake on the padded bench in his cell, and watched the soft ball of light that was his child pulse and glow.

* * *

When he arrived at the captain's office, handcuffed and flanked by two junior security officers, he was surprised to find that the captain wasn't alone. The Tribune was already seated at Sisko's enormous desk, her bun as neat and tidy as ever, though she looked a little tired.

The captain held Odo's gaze steadily, even as he made a lazy wave of greeting to him and the security officers accompanying him. "Good morning, Odo. Lieutenant Holdsworth; Lieutenant Rollins. Tribune Scofield was fortunately still on Bajor when I called last night, so we'll be able to get this situation sorted out sooner rather than later. Please take a seat."

He nodded and did so, albeit a bit awkwardly with his hands restrained behind his back.

Miraculously, they had allowed him to keep Inell with him, even restrained. They'd scrounged up a sealed glass container to keep it in, and one of the security officers with him had carried it to the office. Odo had coaxed it into the container, thinking that it would be better if he could keep it in his sight, although he hated to see the young shapeshifter put in a cage.

With remarkable gentleness, the young officer on his left placed Inell's glass container on the desk directly in front of Odo, then stood at attention against the doors.

"Well, let's get started," Tribune Scofield said briskly. She took a sip of the huge mug of Raktajino in front of her. "This session is being recorded. It's an unsealed proceeding, given the seriousness of what's occurred. I've already taken statements from Captain Sisko and Dr. Mora about the events of last night. Normally this would fall straightforwardly under the captain's jurisdiction, but given recent events and the extraordinary nature of the situation, we thought it would be helpful to have... an outside perspective." She grimaced just slightly.

She leaned forward then, making intense eye contact with Odo. "Just so we're absolutely clear, allow me to confirm. Did you, or did you not, make contact with the Dominion, a government hostile to the Federation, for the purposes of bringing them onto a Federation station?"

Odo swallowed. There was no real point to denying it. But— "Am I entitled to an attorney for these proceedings?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You are," she allowed. "And you're entitled to a full jury trial, if you would prefer that. But you may find that that process will take more time than you'd like. I can't guarantee that—" She glanced at the glass cylinder on the desk.

"Inell," he said firmly. "Its name is Inell."

She inclined her head slightly. "I can't guarantee that Inell will still be on the station a day or two from now, if we don't proceed immediately. A Starfleet research ship is on its way here to pick it up, but I hope we can come to a better resolution before that ship arrives. If you're willing."

Her tone was light, but the threat was very real. Odo knew there was no way Dr. Bashir's attorney friend could arrive in time. And what lawyer he could find to really help him, without at least some time to prepare and explain the situation? And what legal defense could he possibly mount that would overcome what he'd done, in the eyes of the Starfleet officers arriving to take Inell away? In the eyes of any Federation citizen?

He decided to surrender fully.

"All right," he finally said. "I'm willing to proceed without one."

"Thank you," she said, with real warmth. "Now, I'm afraid I must ask you again. Did you solicit the Dominion to come to this station?"

Bracing himself, he said, "I asked them to send one shapeshifter, to remove Inell."

Odo felt, rather than saw, the captain clench his fist and bring it down in a slow, controlled manner onto the desk in front of him.

"Did you intend for them to harm the captain or Dr. Mora?"

"No."

"Are you sure you had no ill intent towards them? After what they did?"

He shook his head involuntarily. "No!"

"None at all?"

"I specifically asked the ... changeling I spoke to not to harm anyone."

"Did you expect they would do as you asked?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I wasn't sure."

"Did you assist them in coming to DS9, or in any material way once they were on DS9?"

"No. Well. I did..." He swallowed. "I found them once they were already on the station, and told them how to find Inell. I mentioned Captain Sisko and the doctor, but I — she found him on her own, I didn't tell her to —" He stopped short, then forced himself to continue. "I didn't tell her to do anything else."

"So you left your quarters after being confined, found the hostile changeling, and gave her some information that led to her harming the captain and Dr. Mora. And you gave her directions to Inell."

"Yes," he admitted.

There was a pause.

"All right." She steepled her fingers. "You've just confessed to several crimes, both as a Federation citizen and in your capacity working for Starfleet. These include failure to obey orders, insubordination, wrongfully hazarding Deep Space Nine, disclosure of classified information, and misbehavior before the enemy. Typically this collection would carry a sentence of roughly five to ten years in a high-security prison on a fringe planet."

There was another pause, longer this time. Odo had no reason to break the silence. He'd thrown himself on her mercy already; there was little more to say.

"However."

Odo noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the captain's expression grew darker.

"While there is no question that you will need to be under confinement, there are mitigating circumstances that I believe warrant changing the terms of your sentence, at least for the time being.

"First, it's now clear that Inell is a minor. Dr. Mora has testified that recent change in its condition is clear evidence that this is the case."

Odo started with surprise. He hadn't expected Mora to change his tune.

"The Constitution of the Federation's List of Guarantees provides for minors to be cared for by a member of their own species or culture, where possible." She glanced at Sisko, then Odo. "It appears that we have two potential candidates, one of whom is a member of Inell's species but not its culture, the other of whom is a member of Inell's culture but not its species."

Tribune Scofield continued, with some delicacy. "In addition, there is the wrinkle of Captain Sisko's... condition. He will be on medical leave for the indefinite future, and requires the best care and guidance available from those most experienced with this condition.

"And the two most experienced people in the Federation are Dr. Mora and you, Odo.

"Given all of these circumstances, and your personal attachment to Inell..." She removed her steepled fingers from the desk, and placed her hands in her lap. "Odo. Your employment as a constable with Starfleet is terminated immediately, and you are sentenced to five years in Federation prison. This judgment is subject to confirmation by a larger court. I expect it will be confirmed.

"However, given the mitigating circumstances I have just described, I am relaxing the terms of your sentence for the time being, contingent on your good behavior. You will stay confined to Deep Space Nine, under close observation. You will assist Captain Sisko with his condition as appropriate. You will also assist with Inell, as its primary caretaker. Inell will stay on the station, under your care, and will not be moved to any Federation facility.

"To be very clear, this courtesy is being extended to you only because of your long history as an upstanding officer of Deep Space Nine and the mitigating facts of your case. Any hint of improper behavior on your part will result in complete loss of the privileges I'm describing. Do I make myself clear?"

Odo managed a nod. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"Good." She nodded to him, then Sisko. "This session is complete." With no further ado, she tapped a button on her tablet to end the recording, then stood up. "And now, I have some sleep to catch up on. Take him out of those restraints, please, and let him go back to his quarters with the young shapeshifter. I'll see you in a day or two for our first check-in." She breezed out of the office.

For a moment, Odo sat in his chair, staring at Sisko.

Then the captain gestured, and the security officer behind him on his right stepped forward to remove his handcuffs. Odo involuntarily shook his wrists once they were free, then watched with laser focus as the officer carefully released the lock on Inell's sealed container.

As soon as it popped open, Odo placed his fingers on the edge of the container; Inell, who had reverted to a resting bloblike form, reformed into its accustomed ball-of-light to hover, almost clinging to Odo's hand.

The captain was staring daggers at him, and the security officers were watching him with a laser focus of their own, but he let all of it melt away. "It's all right," he whispered to Inell. "You'll be with me from now on."

To his utter astonishment, the ball of light solidified, coloring itself a sort of dull beige, and turned into a rough mirror — a long nose like his own, the outlines of a face. It emitted a sound. " _Awl roight,"_ it hissed.

He was so gobsmacked by its progress that it took him a moment to notice that Captain Sisko was speaking to him. "What?"

"I _said_ , I think we'll be spending some time together from now on," the captain said, with irritation.

"Oh. Yes, of course. You and Inell both need to learn to shift," he said thoughtlessly, then shut his mouth with a snap.

Sisko stared at the young changeling. "Yes," he said grimly. "It seems we're in the same boat, there."


	19. In Which Sisko Learns Something

Captain Sisko didn't particularly feel like calling Admiral Ross. But he was going to have to pack up his office soon, when his replacement for his medical leave arrived, and he wouldn't have such convenient access to fully-secured Starfleet channels for much longer. It seemed that this was his best chance to have a chat.

Besides, the admiral had probably already heard something. There wasn't much point putting it off.

Sure enough, the first words out of Ross's mouth when the console video feed clicked on were "What the _hell_ is going on down there, Ben?"

He rubbed his palm on his forehead. "It's a very long story, Admiral. Let me start from the beginning."

He realized now that everything had happened so fast that he'd had no chance at all to call in what was happening. The Tribune, the assault on the station, the second session with the Tribune and Odo's sentencing. It occurred to him, as he was telling the story, that perhaps Admiral Ross would be upset that he hadn't checked in. But, hell, he wasn't some green junior officer with no experience of making decisions in uncertain situations. If Admiral Ross didn't trust his judgment, then that was a bigger problem.

Of course, Ross wouldn't trust his judgment for long. Not after he got to the next part of the story.

Ross actually gasped when he explained what the shapeshifter had done to him, and by the end of the story, seemed absolutely livid. His face was red as he demanded, "Why did you call the Tribune back? You could have shipped off both changelings and had the problem dealt with."

Ben leaned back in his chair. He found it difficult to explain to the admiral why he'd called the tribune back, in part because, well, he didn't think that Ross would like the answer.

The truth was, the experience had changed him. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, least of all Odo, but having his physical form changed so completely... he was shaken. He felt strangely dissociated from everything, almost floating outside his body. All of his senses were dulled.

Except pain. That, he had felt extremely clearly.

Oh, he was angry. It had taken every ounce of his considerable self-control to keep him from outright slugging Odo when he came in to see the Tribune. Odo had disobeyed his orders and betrayed him. ****And it had directly resulted in... this. This change that he had never wanted, and might never recover from. It could ruin his life, if he let it. Hell, he didn't know what it would do to his relationships — with Jake, with Cassidy... He didn't want to let himself think about that, yet.

And yet, he saw things differently now, somehow.

Some part of him hadn't really believed Odo, when he talked about the pain he'd experienced. Or maybe he had believed Odo, but not quite believed that it was every shapeshifter; that Inell deserved the same consideration as a human. Odo had been different. An exception.

But, on the question of whether a shapeshifter deserved the same moral consideration as a human... after all that had happened... he had little choice as to his position.

Finally, in response to the admiral's question, he just shook his head. "I had to, Will. After what happened, I couldn't stay in command. Without a captain," he gestured, "we needed another source of authority. There was simply no choice."

Admiral Ross shook his head wonderingly. "I guess you're right. It boggles my mind. You don't look any different at all."

He shrugged. "No."

"Do you feel different?"

He paused, deciding how much to give away. "A little. I don't have any... new abilities that I know how to use."

Ross shook his head. "Well, it's a damn shame that we have to lose an officer of your caliber, Ben."

His lips thinned. "I'll be on medical leave for a few months."

"A few months? ..." The admiral frowned with real regret. "I'm sorry to tell you, Ben, but I don't know if we even have the operational protocols to handle a shapeshifter in Starfleet. The identity protocols alone—"

He clenched a fist, out of sight of the console's camera. "I thought we were past that kind of prejudice in Starfleet."

Ross was taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Well, we'll see. Maybe they'll be able to sort something out for you, Ben. I sure hope so."

Abruptly, he said "I've gotta go, Will. I have to pack up my office."

"Good luck with the—"

He switched off the console in the middle of Ross's sentence. He didn't care to hear the rest of it.


	20. In Which Quark Earns A Customer

Two days later, Odo sat at the bar at Quark's, sipping a glass of replicated wine. He'd had to cut back on his taste tests of expensive, varied alcohols from Vulcan and Cardassia; his meager prisoner's living allowance didn't allow for such luxuries. Instead he had to stick with molecularly perfect reproductions of top-end vintages from Bordeaux and Champagne on Earth. It wasn't so bad. Just what was available in the replicator, nothing special, but it was enough.

It wasn't the same, but he didn't need things to be the same. They were gloriously, perfectly different.

He glanced over at his constant companion.

Inell usually preferred to stay with him in the form of a ball of light, but it had decided to take a solid form on this outing. Solid, but not quite... creature-like; it seemed to be a kind of snowman made of tetrahedrons of different bright colors.

Odo had tried to explain to it that humanoids tended to prefer the creatures around them to take human-like or at least animal-like forms, but he had little idea how much of this the young shapeshifter could understand yet. It sometimes echoed sounds, so he knew it could hear him, but how many words it took in — it was hard to say. Anyway, if it wanted to be a pile of tetrahedrons, that was just fine with him.

Odo was fairly confident from its behavior, however, that it knew he cared about it. He never had to grab it or corral it into following him around; it stuck close to him all the time. Even, as far as he could tell, while he was asleep.

Of course, the cameras in his quarters were checked frequently to verify that both of them were still there.

They were still being followed around by a junior security officer, most of the time. On her most recent visit, the Tribune had said that that would be unnecessary soon. The automated supervision would be enough. And once Inell was old enough for its own quarters, it would be free of the surveillance that Odo would be subject to for the next five years.

And by serving his sentence with good behavior, over those years, he could earn his way back to being an ordinary Federation citizen again. No surveillance, no confinement to DS9. But that was a long way off, as was his desire for it.

No, for now, he was fine just where he was, on the station.

Just as he took his second sip of wine, Kira appeared next to him.

"Still with the tetrahedrons, I see," she commented. "Does the kid know there are other shapes? Cubes, maybe?" She was smiling.

"Oh, Inell knows other shapes," he said, smiling back. "But tetrahedrons are the favorite right now."

The young shapeshifter, seeming to notice that it was being talked about, responded to this by moving the assembly of shapes around in a slowly-changing pattern.

"Seems like they know their name, too," Kira said.

"Yes, I think so."

"Pretty impressive, for just being a couple weeks old."

There was a break in the conversation. Odo sipped his wine, while Kira called over Quark to order a drink. The Ferengi took her order, then discreetly left to attend to other patrons.

"So," she said. "How does it feel?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How does what feel? Being a convicted felon?"

Kira burst out laughing. "You know, that's not what I meant, but that too, I guess. I meant being a parent."

He couldn't help but laugh, too. "Don't most people do both at the same time?"

"No," she wheezed. "They don't."

He subsided, still grinning, if a bit wistfully. "The one isn't so bad, when you have the other as a consolation prize."

"No," she agreed softly. "I'd expect it wouldn't be so bad."

They both looked over at Inell for a moment.

"This isn't how I expected things to turn out," she murmured. "But I'm glad that they did turn out this way."

Odo nodded. "Me too."

It was the closest they would ever get, he suspected, to admitting her part in all of this. They hadn't spoken about it since the incident, and he thought they never would. As far as Starfleet was concerned, the whole thing had been entirely his idea, and he'd had no help whatsoever. Major Kira had just happened to be on duty to help clean the mess up when his scheme went bad.

But despite his silence, he was deeply grateful to her. And he knew she knew it, even if they never said a word of this out loud.

"Can I ask you something?" Her voice was oddly vulnerable.

He nodded. "Of course."

"Would you mind if ... If..." She swallowed, seeming to steady herself. "I would really like... to be involved. I know it's odd, since I'm just a solid, and we're..." She gestured to herself and Odo. "We haven't really talked about what exactly... this is, either. But I'd really like to help out, somehow, to spend time with the two of you. Would that... What would you think?"

As she finally ran out of steam, Odo's hand closed over hers. She looked up, and their eyes met.

"Nerys," he said. "We would be honored."

* * *

Quark returned after some time had passed, bearing Major Kira's fruit soda. It had been ready several minutes ago, but he was wise enough not to interrupt what had clearly been a private conversation. Not that he couldn't hear most of it anyway, of course, with his sensitive lobes, but he worked hard to give the appearance of discretion.

"There's your strawberry-grape," he said to Kira, setting it down, then added in syrupy tones, "And how's little Inell doing? I hear they've been through a lot lately, but are they settling in okay?"

Odo gave him a level look, then chuckled. "Fishing for information, Quark?"

He placed his hand over his heart and gave Odo a soulful look. "You wound me. I ask out of heartfelt concern for my customers and future customers."

"Inell is a shapeshifter. They don't eat."

"My business isn't all food and drink," he pointed out, very reasonably. "I'm sure they would love a trip to one of my holo-suites. Wouldn't you?" He did his best to give the assemblage of shapes sitting on his bar a simpering look. "I have a few educational children's programs I could pull out for you."

"Not a bad sales pitch," said Odo with a half-smile. "We'll think about it."

"In fact, if there are any particular types you'd want, I could get them on special order," he persisted. "There are programs available for all ages... uh... all stages of development? That would be nice, huh?" He leaned toward the tetrahedron snowman. "You could learn about different shapes, different animals... uh... textures?" he hazarded. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

To his alarm, the colorful shapes suddenly coalesced into one mass, and formed into a crude, but unmistakable miniature rendition of a Ferengi head. Lobes and all. " _Dat be fun?_ " it repeated in a tinny voice.

Quark jumped back slightly, then cleared his throat and tried to recover his composure. It was working! He had its attention! "That's right!" he said, in a baby talk voice. "Fun!"

The disembodied Ferengi head turned to its parent. " _Fun?"_ it said pleadingly. _Perfect_ , thought Quark.

Odo crossed his arms. "You start on them early."

He gave a sketchy bow. "Just doing what I do best."

"We'll think about it," Odo growled.

Quark held up his hands defensively. "That's all I can ask."

He left, but allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction after turning his back. Future customer, indeed.


	21. In Which Odo Becomes A Teacher

Odo had a relaxing first few days of life as a convicted traitor and parent.

Inell went everywhere with him. He spent hours every day talking to them, showing them the items in his quarters, introducing them to a few of the people he knew. They managed to imitate several of the metallic textures and colors in his climbing gym, and he was very glad at his laziness in never taking it down.

He missed being security chief. Once or twice, he caught himself starting to follow a shady character out of habit, then forced himself to stop and go back to his quarters with Inell. That wasn't his life anymore. Not knowing what was happening on the station felt a bit like having a sensory organ cut off; he kept reaching out for his communicator to ask for status updates, before remembering that he didn't have one anymore.

But he was starting to get used to all of it.

All except for one thing, which he'd been putting off, but which he knew he would have to start on eventually.

The door to his quarters buzzed.

"Enter," he called.

The sliding doors parted to reveal Captain Sisko in the doorway.

* * *

Sisko had decided to give both himself and Odo some time, after what had happened.

He'd had long conversations with both Jake and Cassidy about it. Jake had been upset and angry about what happened to him — though he may have also found the idea of having a shapeshifter father a little bit cool. His son had tactfully avoided saying that, for which he was grateful.

Cassidy... She was worried about how this would affect their relationship, as was he. But she wouldn't be back on the station for some time, so they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Jake had made a passing joke about him going "back to school," but Sisko knew it was important that he learn more about his new abilities. Even if it was from Odo, who had betrayed him.

So here he was.

He stepped into the ex-shapeshifter's quarters.

"Good morning, Captain."

Odo was sitting on a twin bed, which was crammed into the side of the room between the wall and his playground-like set of objects. There were several polished chrome tubes that arced across the room, decorated with beads of metal that seemed to be different materials, and the floor was scattered with spheres of various sizes in copper, silver, and other shades of gray and black. (Tungsten, maybe?). The captain had visited here once or twice before Odo's transformation, so he knew what the objects were for: shifting practice.

"Good morning." He paused. "Is Inell here?"

Odo pointed to one of the spheres on the ground. It was copper colored, and evidently identical to another sphere next to it. As Sisko watched, the sphere transformed into a set of two cubes, blue and red.

"They were practicing just now," Odo explained, "but they seem to prefer being more... angular, in company."

"I see."

Sisko approached slightly closer, leaving only a few feet between himself and Odo. "So. ... Where should we start?"

Odo looked him up and down. "Have you tried to do any shifting since... ?" He let the end of the question go unspoken.

"No."

"What about... clothes?"

Sisko cleared his throat. "I... haven't changed them."

Odo nodded. "I never used to do that, except on special occasions. Didn't see much point. What about resting?"

"... resting?" Then he realized what the ex-shapeshifter meant. "Oh, you mean... In a bucket. No. I haven't done that either."

"Oh dear," Odo said. "We'd better fix that right away, then. You must be tired. Have you felt a sense of ..." he gestured. "I don't know how to describe it. Exhaustion, feverishness, that sort of thing?"

He grimaced. "Maybe a little."

"You're probably getting less of it because you're so used to that form," Odo surmised. "All right. One moment." He rose and grabbed a bucket from a corner of the room, and set it in front of Sisko. "Step into this. Do you have a couple hours? You'll need to rest at least an hour. Really, you should be doing it several hours per day."

"Do I have to do it here?"

"You don't _have_ to, but if you do it here the first time, I'll be here to help you re-form."

He suppressed a sigh. "All right. I have the rest of today. Let's get it over with."

* * *

Once he was standing in the bucket, Odo talked the captain through melting himself into a puddle, and let him stay there for a long while, while he chatted and played with Inell. The young shapeshifter couldn't really talk yet — he thought that might take a long while — but they occasionally repeated back his words to him, playing them back like audio files.

He got lunch from the replicator, and returned his dishes.

After a couple hours had passed, he tapped on the side of the bucket. "Captain Sisko. Time to get up."

The shiny goo that was the captain didn't respond at first, but after a few minutes, it started to form into fragments of a physical body. Odo slowly coaxed him into forming his head, then torso, then limbs. He studiously focused on clothing, to avoid embarrassment. The process wasn't exactly neat — in fact, he rather thought most solids would have found it deeply disgusting — but it didn't bother Odo.

After several minutes, Sisko finally stepped out of the bucket and stood in front of him, whole, clothed, and more or less normal.

Odo talked him through altering his clothing, next. It was a different kind of feeling than changing your whole body — when you did it right, it felt like a bucket of water being poured over your body where it changed, and it took a lot of focus to get small details right. The captain found it relatively easy to go back to the uniform he'd been wearing when he was ... originally changed ... but he had trouble getting the right patterns on the civilian clothing he tried to make.

(Odo didn't talk to him about removing the clothing. He hoped the captain would be able to work that out on his own, in private.)

Finally, near the end of their session, Odo asked the captain to try doing something different, and less practical: shifting his body away from its ordinary human form.

"It's been easier for you to stay in human form, so we should build on that. Try just changing the surface of your arm to be the same color and texture as these." He tapped one of the chrome tubes.

Sisko frowned slightly, but he looked at the tube, then stared at his arm in concentration.

"Try touching it. Feel what it is, and take it on in yourself."

The captain laid his arm on the tube, and slowly, with a few interjections from Odo, the color of his forearm started to change from dark brown to a mirror-like chrome finish.

"Good. Try to keep going, if you can."

The captain didn't stop at his forearm, but kept concentrating. The silvery surface spread from his forearms to cover his palms, then ran all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Sisko lifted his hand and flexed his fingers, staring at them in wonder. "It feels so... different."

Odo felt a pang. He had felt those differences, once. "Yes," he said quietly. "It's incredible, isn't it?"

At those words, the captain's face darkened. His skin flowed back over his arm in a flash. "No." He turned his back on Odo. "It's not."

Odo crossed his arms, and was suddenly angry himself at the captain's ingratitude for what Odo could never have again. Before he could stop himself, sarcasm spilled out of his mouth. "Fine. You're angry with me, so experiencing the wonder of a new form is worthless to you."

"The _wonder_ of a _new form?_ " Sisko raised his voice. "Do you realize that what you've done has _ruined my life?_ I might not ever be able to command again. No one trusts a Founder in Starfleet. Not to mention the barrel of laughs that changeling put me through when it was here." He started to pace. "You're a traitor to the Federation, Odo. I may need your help now, but don't think I've forgotten that."

"I wouldn't have had to betray the Federation if _you_ hadn't betrayed its ideals first," Odo snapped.

"Oh, sure, you'll talk about _ideals_ now, but if that—" Sisko pointed to Inell— "had been a spy, we might not have had a Federation left to _have_ ideals."

His voice went deadly quiet. "Don't talk about Inell like that. You might upset them."

"I'll talk how I want." Sisko threw up his hands. "For all we know, it doesn't understand a word I'm saying. And here you are, acting like it's—"

"For all _I_ know, they don't understand a word you're saying," Odo corrected. "But _you_ could find out."

Sisko stopped pacing, and turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

He took a breath. "You could meld with Inell. It's a normal way for young shapeshifters learn about the world. And in the process, you would find out what it's thinking."

The captain seemed at a loss for words for a moment. Then: "But you... Wouldn't that... If you're worried that I might say something that would upset it, wouldn't mind melding with it be much worse?"

He shook his head. "Melding isn't like that. Inell would be able to ... understand your feelings, and what happened to you. It would be hard for that to be upsetting."

Sisko's expression changed to one of suspicion. "It would know a lot about me, then."

Odo nodded. "But they would be more sympathetic to your point of view, most likely."

"And would I be more sympathetic to theirs?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Usually melding does have that effect. But Inell is very young. They might still have distant memories of the Great Lake, but otherwise, all their experiences have been here on DS9. And you can probably guess what their point of view on those events would be."

Sisko frowned, and shifted his feet. "Would it be... useful for me?"

Odo considered for a moment. "It could be. Inell has shifted into many different objects, all non-humanoid, so you might benefit from their experience."

The captain heaved an irritated sigh.

Then he nodded. "All right. Let's do it."


	22. In Which Odo Is Astonished

Odo tried not to let his anxiety show as he said, "Inell."

He was worried — worried about what influence the captain would have on the young shapeshifter; worried that something would go wrong, as inexperienced as both shapeshifters were. But two things outweighed it. One, he wanted to know what Inell was thinking; the captain could tell him, after the meld. And two...

He wanted Inell to have this experience, even if it would never be with him.

The small pile of what appeared to be colored dice ambled over towards him, scattering slightly then reforming itself into a coherent group as it went.

"Sit down on the floor in front of them," he instructed the captain. Sisko obeyed, eyes on Inell. "When I give the word, you'll reach out and touch them. You'll feel a sense of... fluidity at the boundary between your selves. If Inell wants to, they can pull away at that point. But after a few moments, if they haven't done so, then you'll... merge yourself with them, starting from your fingertip.

"Now, go ahead and try it."

To Odo, it felt like an eternity passed, while he watched Captain Sisko, sitting cross-legged on the floor, carefully reach out to the pile of colored shapes in front of him; watched his fingertip meet Inell's surface with a shimmer; then watched them combine into a glowing, pulsating pile of goo.

In reality, it was only a few moments before the mass separated into two halves, and Sisko stood up out of one half of it, gasping.

"That was — the strangest thing. He's experienced so much. Leaving the Great Lake... being in stasis for so many years... Everything that happened to him on Deep Space Nine. I _understand_ it all now. Odo, how can you ever come back from this?" The captain had tears in his eyes. "To never be able to do this again— How can you stand it, knowing what you've lost?"

But Odo spared hardly a glance in Sisko's direction.

The small pile of dice was gone.

In its place was the figure of a young boy.

He wore plain, unadorned clothing. His skin was the same dark shade as the captain's; he rather reminded Odo of Jake, the captain's son, when he was younger. But the boy's facial features were different. More like those of Odo himself.

Odo swallowed, feeling a tightness in his throat and a burning behind his eyes. He knew how powerful melding could be, but this rapid change was shocking even so. Could his son really have learned, have developed so much just now?

Inell was looking straight at him.

"Dad," he said. "Thank you."


	23. Epilogue

It was some weeks later. Odo was relaxing at home with Inell, who was doing some kind of educational game on their tablet, when a call came in on the viewscreen. He picked it up, wondering who could be calling him — he hardly talked to anyone off the station, these days.

"Odo!" It was Dr. Mora. "How good to see you. Is that Inell that I—"

He hung up.

Inell was looking over at him. "Who was that, Dad? I thought I recognized him."

"A very bad man," said Odo. "Don't worry. You'll never see him again."

Inell paused. "Oh. Wait. Wasn't he that mean doctor who I saw when I melded with Captain Sisko?"

Odo grunted, embarrassed. He still forgot sometimes how much Inell already knew about him. "... Yes, that's him."

"He raised you in a lab, right? Before all that stuff happened with me when I was a baby?"

Odo nodded.

Inell shook their head. "Wow. Fuck that guy."

Odo chuckled, despite himself. "It's not polite to curse."

"I know," they said, unrepentant. "I didn't mean to be polite."

He let the point drop, finding it hard to argue.

And the two lapsed back into their companionable silence.


End file.
